


The Curious Princess

by miserably_inadequate



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Porn, Angst and Smut, Attempt at Humor, Basketball, Best Friends, Booty Calls, Childhood Friends, Consent, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Romance, Existential Crisis, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, French Kissing, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Humor, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, Kotatsu, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Romantic Angst, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sexual Tension, Single POV, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Tags Contain Spoilers, Teen Romance, Unbeta'd, Unreliable Narrator, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Weird Plot Shit, bad metaphors, bad similes, hopeless romantic yona, i really wasn't kidding when i said really obscure references, inaccurate depictions of american high school, jock!Hak, no kotatsus were harmed in the making of this fic, pregnancy is an std, really obscure references, too many puns and sexual innuendos, weird metaphors, weird similes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miserably_inadequate/pseuds/miserably_inadequate
Summary: “Hey Hak?” She looks up from where she’s resting on the kotatsu in his room. The guy in question is lying on his bed, continuously tossing a tennis ball in the air. This day is like any other day for the two of them, hanging out at Hak’s place (well, his grandpa’s) after school.It’s been like this since they were kids.When they were little, she’d spend almost every afternoon here with Hak and Soo-Won, until her dad got home from work. It used to be so that Yona wouldn’t be home alone for safety reasons, but now it’s because she feels lonely when she’s alone.“Mm,” Hak hums, not even glancing her way. Rude.She holds back a smirk as she catches him off guard, “What’s sex like?” He doesn’t drop the ball, but he fumbles as he catches it. Instant karma.[...]But she doesn’t have any girlfriend she can ask, as her only female friend, Lily, is also a virgin.He stretches and moves to get back on his bed, making her panic and grab his wrist, “…then how about you show me?”“What.”She clarifies, “will you have sex with me, Hak?”a fic about a curious princess and a childhood friend, who can't deny his princess anything.
Relationships: Son Hak & Yona, Son Hak/Yona
Comments: 87
Kudos: 247





	1. the point of no return

**Author's Note:**

> hi!
> 
> I'm back with another hakyona fic, sorry for the long wait! This is my first ever multi-chapter fic, so we'll see how it goes (fingers crossed). Please excuse my terrible sense of humor--there are _way_ too many sexual innuendos and puns than I can be bothered to count xd
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy! Let me know what you think and if you would like the continuation! <3

“Hey Hak?” She looks up from where she’s resting on the kotatsu in his room. The guy in question is lying on his bed, continuously tossing a tennis ball in the air. This day is like any other day for the two of them, hanging out at Hak’s place (well, his grandpa’s) after school.

It’s been like this since they were kids.

When they were little, she’d spend almost every afternoon here with Hak and Soo-Won, until her dad got home from work. It used to be so that Yona wouldn’t be home alone for safety reasons, but now it’s because she feels lonely when she’s alone.

“Mm,” Hak hums, not even glancing her way. Rude.

She holds back a smirk as she catches him off guard, “What’s sex like?” He doesn’t drop the ball, but he fumbles as he catches it. Instant karma.

“…why are you asking me?” Hak was the first person that came to mind when she thought of who to ask, for multiple reasons. But the simplest answer is that she doesn’t really have anyone else to ask.

“Well, who else am I meant to ask?” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him, which he doesn’t see since he’s back to playing with the tennis ball.

“Soo-Won perhaps?”

“No way. He’d be too embarrassed or tell me I’m too young,” Yona huffs and rolls her eyes. She’s only two years younger than the two of them, and she’s a sophomore in high school! High school is when you’re supposed to lose your virginity, right? Well, not Soo-won, she supposes, “Besides, I don’t think he knows more than me anyway.”

“Touché,” his voice is monotonous and uninterested, which is kind of irritating. Well, when isn’t he irritating?

“So, tell me. Hak.”

“Why do you want to know?” He stops playing with the ball and sits up, narrowing his eyes at her. Finally, she has his attention.

“I’m just curious.” He quirks an eyebrow at her, having that look on his face like he knows she’s bullshitting him. Damn him for being so intuitive. She sighs, draping herself across the kotatsu, mumbling into the tabletop, “…I overheard some girls talking about it and I wanna know what it’s like—if it’s anything like they said.”

“Hmm,” he slides off his bed, sitting next to her on the floor. He leans close to her and whispers in her ear, “you really wanna know what it’s like, Princess?” he resorts to using her childhood nickname, which, well he always does—it would feel weird if he called her by her name. His breath tickles her neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Well yeah, that’s why I’m asking you,” she looks away from him, his gaze too intense. Why is he so close to her all of a sudden?

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you,” he leans back, placing his arms behind his head as he rests against the bedframe. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a girl. So I don’t know what it’s like from a girl’s perspective.”

Shit.

But she doesn’t have any girlfriend she can ask, as her only female friend, Lily, is also a virgin.

He stretches and moves to get back on his bed, making her panic and grab his wrist, “…then how about you show me?”

“What.”

She can’t read the expression on his face, but she knows he heard her. Yeah, asking him was a spur of the moment kind of thing, but it’s not too bad of an idea. She could pretend like it was a joke or something, but deep down she doesn’t want to cover it up. Why that is, she doesn’t know.

She clarifies, “will you have sex with me, Hak?”

“…no way,” he furrows his brows and looks away from her, trying to escape to his bed again. Not on her watch.

“wha—meanie!” She lowers her voice, wrapping her arms around herself, “…am I that unattractive?”

“…yeah, you are,” he scoffs, looking her dead in the eyes. To add insult to injury, he flicks her forehead, making her yelp and rub the spot. Still, she has a gut feeling that she can convince him.

Hmm… What’s his weakness…?

Oh, right.

He’s overprotective of her.

“I guess I’ll just have to ask someone else then,” she grabs her phone, on her way to download tinder. She doesn’t hide her screen, but she hopefully isn’t making her plan obvious. 

“…wait, that’s not a good idea,” he mutters and the crease between his eyebrows deepens. He took the bait, now she’s just has to reel him in.

“Well, since you won’t, then I’ll just have to find somebody else to do it,” she presses the download button on her phone, downloading the app. She struggles really hard to keep her poker face, almost letting it slip and show her true, mischievous colors.

“Princess, do you realize even what you’re talking about—what you’re asking me to do?” His voice is rough, rougher than usual. The same goes for his eyes: they’re sharper than they usually are.

She blinks her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side, “Yes?” He has a pained look on his face and she wonders if she went too far.

Hak rubs his face, raking his hand through his hair and mutters under his breath, “Mundok and your dad are going to kill me if they find out.”

“So, you’ll do it?” Yona can barely contain her excitement, smile spreading wide on her face. He sighs and nods.

She throws herself at him, hugging him, “thank you, Hak! You’re the best!” 

“…yeah, whatever,” he pats her on the back, refusing to hug her back. “So… when do you wanna, uh, do it?” He clears his voice, though keeping it low.

“—oh. Uh, when do you think is a good idea?” She leans back and bites her lip. She kind of expected them to, like, do it right now, but she can’t tell him that—she already seems eager as fuck.

“Well, Mundok is gone on a business trip over the weekend and Hen-Dae insisted on babysitting Tae-Yeon… so, perhaps Saturday?” Shit, she hadn’t even thought of that. How embarrassing would it be if Mundok walked in on them? Or traumatize poor little Tae-Yeon?

“Yeah, that should work…” Her heart races a mile a minute, realizing with a start: oh shit, she’s going to lose her virginity. With Hak, no less.

Wait, why does it matter that it’s Hak?

Ah, it matters because she knows she’ll be in good hands. Goddamnit, why is everything she’s thinking all of a sudden an innuendo? Or maybe it’s always been that way, she just never noticed. That’s beside the point.

The point is, she’s finally going to become a woman—no wait, why should her transition into adulthood be defined by a simple act such as sex? By a man no less. Yona is a strong, independent woman—who don’t need no man. Well, except Hak since it’s rather difficult to have sex with someone, on your own.

 _And_ we’re back at square one. You know what. Fuck the point. She’s getting laid and that’s what matters.

Right?

* * *

“You’re all fancy,” Hak greets her as he opens the front door. He, himself, is wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, not even bothering to wear socks. Wow. His relaxed outfit makes her seem even more like she put a lot of effort into her look. Well, she _did_ put a lot of effort into it, but she doesn’t want him to know that.

“Hello to you too,” Yona walks passed him, momentarily ignoring his comment as she pulls off her boots and shimmies out of her coat. He shuts the front door and takes her coat from her meanwhile giving her a once-over, silently asking with his eyes for her to explain.

“Yeah, sorry. I realized after I was already done that dressing up wasn’t a good idea—” she tugs at the hem of her loose knit sweater, kind of regretting choosing a cropped one. Even if her skin isn’t necessarily exposed—since her knife pleated skirt sits high up on her waist—the slightest bit of movement causes the hem of the sweater rise above the skirt’s waistband, and hence exposing her midriff. “—my dad got suspicious…”

“How so?” Yona follows him into his dimly lit bedroom, where they sit down at the kotatsu.

“Well, he wondered who I was seeing,” she her legs stretches out under the table, the heater warming her up. Hak grabs the TV remote from the tabletop, switching the channel.

“How did he react? When you told him you were coming here?”

“…uh, about that,” she scratches the back of her neck and laughs stiffly.

“—what did you do now,” Hak snaps his gaze on her, narrowing his eyes. He looks so done of her shit and she just got here, as per usual. If she’s not careful, she could blow her chance.

“Well… I lied,” she looks down at where she’s playing with the hem of her sweater, which she should probably stop doing or she’ll ruin it, “I told him I was watching a movie at Lily’s.”

He leans on the kotatsu as he rests his face in his hand, his muscles flexing as he moves. Her eyes pin on his bicep, unable to help herself. What, it’s fascinating, okay?

“Hmm—actually, that wasn’t too bad of an idea…”

“Mm, I know right,” she mumbles into her palm as she copies his pose.

“…for once,” he crosses his arms and has the most annoying shit-eating grin on his face.

She whacks him on his arm, “Hey!”

“But then again, you only have yourself to blame. If you’d have shown up in sweats, like you usually do, then he wouldn’t have thought anything of it.” Yona drapes herself on the tabletop, hiding her face in her arms, whining since she knows what he just said is the truth. At least her dad bought her lie—otherwise she’d be screwed. Well, technically she’s _going_ to get screwed, if all goes according to plan.

Amidst her moping, she lets her inner thoughts come forth, barely a whisper, “yeah… but I thought that maybe I should at least try to make myself attractive to you…”

It doesn’t seem like he heard her, which is probably a good thing—what she just said was embarrassing. She doesn’t want him to think she’s hung up on that, that he doesn’t find her attractive. Its fine, whatever. She doesn’t care. Yet, why can’t she stop thinking about it? And why does her heart do that pinching thing whenever she thinks about it?

It’s not fair. Not everyone is lucky enough to be as attractive as him, with his messy, soft black hair, steel blue eyes, incredible height, rippling muscles and a deep voice. Besides physical features, he’s got a kind heart, hidden behind a large façade of rude words. He really is the whole package deal—wait. Hold the phone. Did… did she just—about Hak?

She nearly jumps when she hears his voice in her ear, “Princess,” his touch on her shoulder keeping her from flying, “you sure about this?” She turns her face toward him, nodding her reply.

During her little pity party on the kotatsu, he’s moved closer to her, sort of behind her so that she’s almost in his lap. She sits up, pinning her eyes on the TV screen, trying to force her thoughts away from how his proximity gets her blood thumping.

“…m’kay, we’ll go at your pace, no need to rush,” his soft words make her relax, leaning back, into his arms. Hak tucks his face into the crook of her neck, taking deep breaths.

“Please let me know if you, at any time, change your mind—or if something feels wrong. The last thing I want to do is hurt you,” his warm breath ghosts her ear, as he brushes her hair behind her ear with his fingertips. He presses a light kiss there, making tingling sensations ripple on her skin.

He leaves his face on her shoulder; a stillness, filled with nervous anticipation, befalls them. Only the low sound of the TV and his breathing by her ear is audible. He’s warm against her back, almost as if he’s a kotatsu himself.

After a while, he breaks the silence ever so quietly, mumbling, “…you smell good.” Oh, so maybe there actually was a point to her getting all fancy, but this perfume is her regular one.

“I wear this same perfume every day,” Yona teases.

“I know,” he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close. She expected a surprised reaction from him, though the roles got reversed. Wait, so he knows she always smells like this? Does that mean… he always thinks she smells good? That’s what he means, right?

“…oh, okay,” her face burns, but something swells in her chest, something warm threatening to spill, like boiling water in a pot. She’s lucky she has her back towards him, since she would be embarrassed if he saw the pleased smile on her face.

Deep down, she wishes this moment could last forever, but this is not why she’s here. Even if she weren’t here for… _that,_ she knows the moment couldn’t last forever, even if he’d also want it to. Not because of rational reasoning like ‘you would die lmao’, but because she can’t resist the primal, instinctive pull towards him.

Or, in other words, she’s horny.

She’s already come to terms with that she finds him objectively handsome (it’s impossible not to), but she needs to keep her eyes on the ball. This will not end well if she lets her feelings get involved. She takes a couple deep breaths, clearing her head and feels her entire body slow down, heart rate returning to normal. Of course, she’s still excited, but now the excitement is back about the act rather than with whom.

She slowly and secretly slides her fingers under her skirt, hooking them under the waistband of her underwear. Her lower half of her body is hidden by the duvet of the kotatsu, shielding her actions from view. She lifts her hip ever so slightly, pulling her underwear down a little bit, waiting before repeating the same to her other side. Hak doesn’t seem to notice or maybe he does, but is deliberately ignoring it. At least, he’s not questioning her, so that’s nice.

She places her hand on his thigh as she leans more heavily against him. She turns her head to peak at him, finding his eyes watching her and a look she can’t decipher. He doesn’t say anything, like he’s waiting for her to make the first move. To be fair though, she should be the one to initiate since she’s the one who wants this.

“Hak,” her voice is hoarse, pathetically so. He hums and closes his eyes, bumping his forehead with the side of her neck. She reaches for his hand, getting his attention again. His eyes meet hers once more, silently asking for an explanation.

“Can you…” she moves his hand onto her thigh and licks her lips, “can you touch me?” Her eyes must look black from the way her pupils are so dilated, dark with lust. He blinks his eyes a few times, his pretty, long eyelashes fluttering. His eyes are also dark, but they always are so there’s no way for her to tell if he’s aroused—well, there is _one_ way, but she’s not _that_ bold.

“Please, Hak?” She turns her torso a little bit towards him, letting her sweater fall off her shoulder intentionally. Whoopsies. The slip of the fabric gives him a slight view of her chest, without being too obvious. He swallows thickly and nods. Yes! Mission success—or well, an objective in her mission. Okay, correction: objective complete.

Hak slowly— _too_ slowly—slides his hand along her thigh and stops when he reaches the hem of her skirt, before slipping his fingers under it. The closer he gets, the slower he goes. She almost feels like she’s going to die of impatience and eagerness, but somewhere in the back of her head (where she’s actually still rational) she knows he’s being cautious for several reasons.

One of them being that this is her first time doing _anything_ sexual with _anyone_ and he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable (well, he _is_ making her uncomfortable by going _so damn slow—_ ). Another reason is that by him touching her, could change everything between them. They’ll no longer just be ‘childhood friends’; they’ll be ‘childhood friends who’ve also done some non-platonic ( _sexual_ ) shit together’. It could ruin their friendship—make it awkward between them.

But fuck logic, right? She wants this, so then why shouldn’t she let herself indulge?

She can’t help the giggle that escapes her when he’s flabbergasted to find she’s not wearing any underwear.

“That skirt is _way_ too short to be a kilt.” She tries to silence her laughter with her hand over her mouth, but ultimately fails. He chuckles with her and rubs his thumb on the inside of her thigh. His smile is _so_ pretty and she wonders how she never noticed that before, never noticed just how attractive he’s become.

Sure, she’s always heard girls gushing and fawning over just how handsome he is since they hit puberty, but she’s always regarded their flattery as over the top or exaggerated. She didn’t like it when other people talked about him, be it positive or negative. She didn’t know why though, but maybe she does now.

Fuck, get out of your head, girl. That’s not what’s important right now.

She bites her lip, unable to stop herself from glancing at his eyes, like there’s something about them that lures her in. She turns her body forward again, making it impossible for her to gawk at him. He still hasn’t moved his hand from her inner thigh—he’s so close to where she wants him to be.

The press of his lips on her nape would surprise her if she didn’t feel his breath gradually getting closer and closer ‘til his lips made contact with her skin. That doesn’t mean though, that it doesn’t make her body tingle. The second kiss feels just as wonderful as the first, and the third and consecutive kisses continue that almost high feeling. She’s getting so hot and bothered that it doesn’t feel out of place once his fingers finally touch her.

She’s touched herself before (come on, what teen hasn’t?), but it feels so different when someone else does it—when _Hak_ does it. His fingers are rougher and larger than hers, and the motions different from what she usually does, yet it feels really nice. Nicer than nice—better than it ever feels when she does it herself.

It’s obvious he has more experience than her; he clearly knows what he’s doing and he’s quickly turning her into putty. Her breathing is erratic, chest heaving. Her eyelashes flutter, eyes struggling to focus. Her limbs twitch from the sensations, fingers gripping and releasing his thigh.

Fuck, it feels good. It makes her want him even more, like she has an itch only he can scratch. She turns in his hold, resting her head on his shoulder. She moves her hand to his chest, right above his heart, feeling its steady beat.

“…Hak,” her voice is faint and thick with lust: raspy and strained. The man in question hums and kisses her hair lightly. Sweet, but that’s not what she wants. She whispers his name again, growing more desperate by the minute. He raises an eyebrow at her and hums in an ascending (questioning) tone, rubbing his thumb gently on her hip. Yona knows he knows what she means—he’s just playing dumb.

Fine.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her and whispers his name in his ear. It seems to do the trick, which is great since Plan B was a bit more embarrassing. She won’t go into details, but it entailed whispering something a little bit more risqué.

Hak chuckles, “needy Princess,” and turns off the TV, dipping the room to near black, the only light coming from the bedside lamp. He lifts her up (princess style, of course) and sets her down on his bed—well, more like purposely drops her. She bounces on the bed and her hair spreads around her like a halo. The bounce makes her giggle, like she’s a little kid jumping on her parents’ bed.

He opens his nightstand, grabbing what looks like a condom wrapper. The sight of it reminds her that she’s really doing this. She’s losing her virginity tonight and it will begin some new chapter in her life. Not womanhood, she already established that. But something will change, that she’s sure of. She’ll no longer be sweet innocent little Yona, no, she’ll be Yona: the girl who now has some kind of experience in life besides studying. Too bad that’s not something that would be okay to write on her college essay as an extra-curricular activity.

Actually, that’s probably a good thing. Why would other people want to know what you do between the sheets with someone else? They’d get some weird picture in their head and be grossed out. She knows she would; like, who gives? But she can’t help but want to shout it out for the world to hear. Like it’s an accomplishment that not a lot of people achieve. To be fair though, not everyone ends up losing their virginities. At least not at 16. Or with someone like Hak. Or with their childhood friend.

She crawls under the covers to keep herself busy so she doesn’t let her eyes wander to what he’s doing. She knows if she peeks, she won’t be able to get that image out of her head. Fortunately, she doesn’t have to wait long at all. He turns off the lamp and climbs in next to her. The room is dark, though she can still see his face hovering above her.

“You 100% sure about this?” God, he’s so sweet it’s almost annoying.

“Yes, Hak. I’m sure,” she tries to sound as convincing as possible, hoping that this will be the last time he asks, “should I do anything?” His arms on either side of her cages her in, but she doesn’t feel trapped.

“It’s your first time, so no. Just try to relax,” he cups her face and gently spreads her legs apart. Yona takes a few deep breaths, feeling anxious despite her overwhelming excitement. This is fine, more than fine. It’s with Hak; he would never purposely hurt her or take advantage of her, so she should just relax. 

“Princess, hey… it’ll be okay. If it hurts, we can just stop, okay?” Fuck, he’s so observant. But his words do help—they always do. She nods, feeling herself relax a little bit.

He lets his hand wander down her torso, touching her again, mumbling under his breath, “fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she bites her knuckle, feeling embarrassed.

“No, no—not at all. Rather the opposite,” he moves her hand away, kissing the back of it before moving to kiss her neck.

“Oh, okay,” she relaxes again, the sensations of his fingers and his lips making her thoughts incoherent. After he’s left a trail of soft kisses down her neck to her collarbones, he looks at her in her eyes, silently asking her for consent. She nods again and smiles shyly at him. He kisses her forehead, making her feel safe.

He keeps continuous eye contact as he slowly enters her. The stretch hurts, almost like she’s on fire, but it also feels really good. She whimpers from the pain, furrowing her brows and nose. He looks alarmed, so she has to tell to him to keep going.

It feels tight and she has trouble understanding how he fits inside of her, but it feels so good. It’s like a hunger she didn’t know she had, has been sated— _is_ being sated. He tucks his head in the crook of her neck, as he enters her slowly but surely all the way.

“You okay? Does it hurt?” his voice is soft and gentle, feeling almost out of place juxtaposed to their current situation. He lifts his head, looking into her eyes as he cups her face.

“mm, just give me a moment and I’ll be okay,” she groans lightly as she leans her face into his hand, closing her eyes. She sighs, the pain dissipating by the seconds that pass. He nods, rubbing his thumb back and forth on her cheek.

She opens her eyes, whispering, “just go slow, okay?” She knows it’s redundant since he knows to go slow, but it can’t hurt to remind him. He nods and hums, kissing her forehead before moving his head back to her neck. He gently rolls his hips, making her gasp. The movement hurts, making her skin tingle in both a good way and a bad way. Mostly good though.

He continues rolling his hips, causing her to grip his shirt on his back and tangle her fingers in his hair from the sensations. His nose is behind her ear, making his hot breath tickle her skin and allowing his light groaning to be audible—somehow turning her on even more. She didn’t know it was possible to get more turned on than she already was, but here she is.

Yona is greedy. She wants more already, trying to sate her hunger that just keeps on growing. Every time she thinks she’s sated it, she ends up wanting something else, something more. It’s this greed that makes her whisper something as crude as, “faster, Hak…”

And Hak, the ever obedient servant, complies with her selfish, selfish request. He no longer rolls his hips, but starts rocking them back and forth. He starts out slow, though quickly picks up pace. Just the simple change of pace makes a difference, making her clutch at him harder and lock her ankles around his hips.

“Mm, Hak…!” she pants his name in his ear, moaning lightly from how good it feels. Of course, it still hurts, though the pleasure overtakes the pain. It’s hot, really hot, making her wish she didn’t have her sweater on.

Wait—she can just take it off! She’s a genius. Though, it might be a little bit difficult to remove with Hak on top of her. But she doesn’t want to tell him to stop, it feels too good and he might misunderstand. Well, she can just start to take it off and he’ll notice. Yes, great idea Yona.

She releases her hold on him, sliding her hands to the hem of her sweater. Hak, the ever observant guy, notices and elevates his torso off of her, allowing her to pull her sweater over her head. He takes the moment to do the same with his t-shirt, before returning to his spot by her neck.

The feeling of his skin on hers is more exciting than she thought it would be. She wonders if it feels even better with her bra off, though she doesn’t dare. His skin is warm (like hers), but firmer—his muscles much firmer. She runs her fingers along his back, feeling how his muscles shift as he moves.

His hand finds her hip, holding it in place as he starts kissing her neck again. Despite how good all the stimulation down there is, the kisses have to be her favorite part. They’re like a multiplier in a video game, making the score increase faster than usual. They make everything else even better. The pain is near gone, or at least the kisses distract her so much, that she can’t feel the pain.

She shoves her hand in his hair again, gasping for air in his ear. Her toes tingle and curl from the pleasure. She wishes she could stop time and freeze this moment forever, for it feels so good and she feels safe in his arms. She clings to him tight, pushing her nose into his soft, messy black hair. It smells just like him, the scent being so familiar and calming, being the only thing keeping her grounded.

She moans his name in his ear, brushing her lips against his cheek and presses a light kiss there. It’s the first time she’s kissed anyone in a romantic sense, which is kind of ironic if you consider the situation she’s in right now. Yeah, she’s never kissed anyone on the lips, but she’s no longer a virgin. Funny how things turn out.

He stops leaving soft kisses on her neck, leaning back to look her in the eyes and cup her face. She wishes he would kiss her on her lips instead, but she knows that is too much to ask for. Though he has a serious look on his face, making her concerned.

“Hak?” her voice is so rough she has to clear her throat a couple times for the sounds to even resemble his name.

“mm?”

“Why the long face?”

“Oh, um… I was close, so forced myself to think of something else,” he breaks eye contact as he mumbles his answer.

“Oh,” she feels her face flush, feeling kind of flattered though. He claims not to find her attractive, yet she is attractive enough to make him this worked up. But why would he not want to feel that rush of endorphins? She knows she would never stop herself from reaching her own climax if she was close, though she’s probably biased. She’s never managed to climax herself, and sometimes she envies guys for how easy it is for them. “Why’d you stop yourself?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that,” his voice is raspy yet so soft.

She genuinely wonders, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He chuckles and gives her a lopsided smile, “sometimes you’re just too clueless for your own good.” She would be offended if she weren’t distracted by the way his eyes sparkle like glinting sapphire rocks.

She reaches up, tucking his hair behind his ear as she studies his eyes. Maybe they’re more like stars in a night sky, a dark blue hue with dashes of light. She almost whines when he closes his eyes, shielding them from her view. Fortunately, he opens them again rather quickly, allowing her to gaze into them once more.

“Do I have something on my face, Princess?” He tilts his head to the side, making his bangs fall away from his face.

“—ah, no,” she breaks eye contact, though she can’t keep her eyes off his for long. He hums in return and once more places his face by her ear. His breath makes her shiver, her skin getting all prickly with goosebumps. Why does the simplest touch from him cause her body to react like it does?

His lips meet her neck again, though this time the kisses are different. They’re sloppier, wetter more frantic and somewhat harder—if kisses now can be hard; since she has zero experience with kisses, she doesn’t know if they can be or not. Either way, he alternates between soft, open-mouthed kisses, and kisses that linger and tug on her skin.

She struggles to breath and fists her hand into his hair, loving how silky smooth it feels between her fingers. She scraps her nails across his scalp, eliciting a groan from Hak. Huh, that’s interesting. Well, who doesn’t love a good scratch on their scalp?

What’s some other way to make him feel good? What’s something she can do while he’s making her feel so good? His nose nudges against her skin just below her jaw, tickling her and making her stifle a giggle. If she’s not sorely mistaken, she thinks she heard him groan from that too. But how would a giggle make him feel—oh.

She tightens her abdominal muscles, as if she were laughing and on cue: he groans. She almost wants to laugh from how simple that was and how dumb she is for realizing it earlier. She moves her hand from his hair to his back, holding him as close as she can. She leans her face against his, quietly moaning into his ear.

Not before long does he stop kissing her neck, deeming his breathing more important. He pants on her neck as his hips start to stutter. She holds him close, wishing she could see his face as he loses himself in her. His hand finds her face, holding it still as he presses a passionate kiss to the side of her face and sighs her name.

The sound of her name on his lips sounds so odd since he never calls her anything but her childhood nickname, yet it makes something giddy swell in her chest and tears prick her eyes. It makes her proud to know he at least didn’t think of someone else meanwhile, for then he wouldn’t call her name. At least that much she can deduce.

“mm, Hak…” she pets his hair as he comes down from his high. He’s collapsed on top of her, without crushing her, propping himself up by his elbows. She can feel his ribcage rise and fall against hers from his deep breathing. She feels a pounding in his chest, the rapid speed of his heart rate. In this moment, she can’t help but think of a quote from one of her favorite novels,

> _‘I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge’_

She finally, truly understands what it means.

“…sorry,” he mumbles, lifting his head off her. No, wait—she doesn’t want this moment to end, not just yet. She wraps her arms around his neck, forcing him close again.

“Princess…?”

“…just a little longer, please?” she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, however she doesn’t give him much choice but to stay in her arms.

“’kay,” Hak slides his arms around her and holds her close, soothing her greed to stay close to him. Even though she trusts him (with all her heart), she doesn’t want to risk him slipping out of her grasp, so she keeps her grip tight on him. She doesn’t ever want to let him go and she really does wish that her rib cage could crack open, allowing her heart to migrate and merge with his.

After what seems like a couple seconds, but really is more like a few minutes, he kisses her ear, whispering, “I’ll be right back, okay?” before slipping out of her loosened grasp. She nods, even if every cell in her body screams to pull him back in her arms.

She pulls the duvet close, as if it is Hak’s replacement. The duvet smells like him, but also like her. It smells kind of gross, smelling of sweat and well, sex. But it calms her racing heart, knowing that once she leaves, there’ll be a part of her that’s left besides in their memories. Until the sheets get washed, which she supposes he’ll want to take care of as soon as she leaves, since he’d probably not want to sleep on sheets that will remind him of a favor he was basically blackmailed into.

Shit.

She wants to regret it (it was morally wrong) but she can’t find it in herself to. Yes, she regrets the way she went about asking him (or well, manipulating him), but she doesn’t regret the act itself. It was everything and nothing like she dreamed, hoped, and fantasied—it would be. She could never regret this precious memory.

She feels the bed dip beside her, before his arms wrap around her from behind. He doesn’t say anything, only rubbing soothing circles on her arm. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s a part of her that cheering, telling her that this is her first time spooning with a guy—with Hak, but the burning in her eyes distract her. She tries to discreetly wipe them, not wanting him to see them.

But of course, he does—Hak the ever observant, intuitive, _perfect_ _guy—_ “Princess?” She tries to pretend like she’s fine, blinking her eyes to rid them of the tears. She pretends like the worry in his voice is needless as she hums innocently.

“You okay…?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” her voice is steady, steadier than she expected it to be. He hums and she hopes that will be the last of it, but of course it’s not. This is Hak we’re talking about. Maybe she was dumb for ever thinking of him in a different light than an annoying friend who doesn’t know when to let things go.

He leans over her, “Princess,” moving her hair—her shield—out of her face. She wants to close her eyes, jam them shut and never have to open them again, but that would mean surrendering and having to talk about her feelings—which she isn’t exactly keen on doing. So she continues on her path, the one of feigning ignorance.

Though she doesn’t know what to say as he wipes her tears away with his thumb. She can’t read his expression and usually he would say something, like calling her out for lying or teasing her for crying, but he doesn’t. He lies back down behind her again, but this time he lies closer, his chest pressed up against her back. Part of her is disappointed he’s dressed again, but another part is glad he is.

This is odd though, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. He was meant to be annoying and interrogate her about her tears, why she lied about being fine when she’s not and she was meant to deny, deny, deny and—“Hak?”

“hmm?”

Yona turns in his hold and pulls herself to his chest, jamming her eyes shut in an attempt to force the tears away and thus her feelings. But when he holds her like this and kisses her hair like that, she has to admit that they’re all coming back to her. Yes, even when she’s despaired, her hopeless romantic heart loves to quote love songs, books and movies. She’s pathetic, really. Miserably inadequate.

She clutches his shirt, trying to silence her tears with her hand over her mouth. She doesn’t really know why she’s crying, but that’s okay—she doesn’t want to know why. They say, ignorance is bliss and she can’t help but agree. It’s better if she doesn’t delve into her mess of emotions, and leave that to her future self to take care of. Procrastination at its finest.

Hak rubs her back and pets her hair, quickly consoling her. Once the tears have turned into sniffles, he cups her cheek and wipes the remaining tears with his thumb. He still has the same look on his face: one that she can’t read.

“’m sorry…” she feels her cheeks burn, realizing that she’s been crying on him in only her bra and skirt.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Princess,” his voice is low and calm, unwavering and sincere; “…do you regret it?” His words catch her by surprise, her red rimmed eyes going wide before she jams them shut as she shakes her head.

“m’kay,” a small, comforting smile tugs at the corner of his lips. She smiles back, though it quickly slides off her face, feeling forced. She’s the one to blame for the awkwardness that’s between them now. She would fix it, by pretending like nothing happened and that they’re just two friends who haven’t slept together, but she feels so exposed without her clothes. And she’s afraid that getting dressed isn’t going to solve it either. Time probably will, and the routine of everyday life. Yes, that’s it.

“Um, I think I should go, before my dad starts to worry…”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he slips out of the bed, grabbing her sweater that somehow ended up on the floor. He hands it to her and she thanks him, using the covers to hide herself as she slips it on. She straightens her skirt out and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling up her thigh high socks.

“Um, where did your underwear go? Or did you really not wear any?” he rubs his neck and chuckles lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

She giggles behind her hand, “Under the kotatsu.” He blinks a few times and raises an eyebrow before lifting the duvet on the kotatsu, finding the underwear in question. Ah, it’s rather embarrassing that she matched her bra and underwear; it shows she tried too hard. He hands them to her, the awkwardness returning between them.

She excuses herself to the bathroom to make sure she doesn’t look like she just did something indecent, and thus allowing her to properly convince her father that she was watching a movie with Lily. She looks into the bathroom mirror, finding a reflection of red rimmed eyes, flushed cheeks and messed up hair.

She takes out the hair tie from her half-up half-down hairstyle and gathers her hair into a high pony/messy bun type of thing. She splashes some cold water on her face, hoping that it’ll tone down her blush, though it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t help. She can always blame her rugged appearance on the cold weather. Before she leaves the bathroom, she remembers reading somewhere online that it’s a good idea to pee after sex, but she doesn’t remember why. Well, rather be safe than sorry.

She exits the bathroom, determined to ease the awkwardness between them. But she finds it difficult when she can barely even look into his eyes without her heart leaping in her chest. He walks her to the door, offering to walk her home since its dark out.

“No, it’s okay—it’s just down the street,” she pulls on her boots and coat, “besides, we wouldn’t want my dad seeing you.”

“Right.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Um, thank you for today, Hak,” she smiles at him and last minute decides to hug him, pushing up on her toes and wraps her arms around his neck. Damn him for being so tall.

He wraps his arms around her waist, “—ah, it was no problem, really. You don’t need to thank me…” His voice by her ear is soft, muffled by her coat. She holds onto him as long as she can, not wanting to let go, but she has to—it’ll be weird if she doesn’t.

She steps out onto the porch, “I’ll see you on Monday then?”

“Yeah,” he rubs his neck and leans on the door, “good night, Princess.”

“Good night, Hak,” she waves before turning around and walking down the street to her house. Once she knows she’s out of his sight, she feels the need to scream or jump or, or—something!

Well, she can’t scream, both her dad and Hak would hear it, as well as all of their neighbors. So she flails her arms around and spins in circles. She doesn’t know why she feels this sudden rush of energy; it’s both anxious and happy. She takes a few deep breaths as she walks up to the front door of her house, calming her down. She unlocks the door and removes her outerwear, calling out to her dad that she’s home.

He asks her how the movie was and if she had a good time. She feels bad for lying to her dad, but she feels like she’s doing it for his own good. Well, hers too, but she knows he doesn’t like the idea of her growing up. She excuses herself to her room, claiming that she’s worn out and heads to bed early.

She gets into her bed, and hugs her pillow. Her heart beat refuses to slow down and her mind won’t allow her to think of anything but that smile of his and pretty blue eyes. She wonders what it would be like if they’d done it here, in her room.

Would she then, still be able to smell him on her sheets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when the next chapter will be done, but at least I'm still working on it. 
> 
> Did you catch my obscure references? The quote, _"I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge"_ is from Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion (the book, not the movie). 
> 
> A little less obvious reference is the line, _"But when he holds her like this and kisses her hair like that, she has to admit that they’re all coming back to her."_ referring to the song "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" by Céline Dion. Cheesy, I know. 
> 
> There are probably many more references that I can't remember or they're so ingrained and at this point natural to me so that I don't even realize they're references lol
> 
> A [kotatsu](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kotatsu) is a low table with a built in heater and duvet (or _futon_ )  
> Please let me know what you think! Do you want more? Should I continue?


	2. the aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You what did _what?_ With Hak, of all people?”
> 
> Yona hushes Lily, afraid someone else will hear them—even worse, Hak might hear them. He should have class right now, but that hasn’t stopped him before, despite being in his final year. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Lily, but she couldn’t just keep it to herself. Besides, she’s her only girlfriend—she couldn’t possibly talk about this with her guy friends. Or her best friend, since he’s the one it concerns.
> 
> * * *
> 
> the aftermath of what really happened last time and what that entails
> 
> well, sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii!  
> I'm so sorry it's taken me 3 weeks to get this chapter out! I've been struggling with liking how I write some things and that's lead to me feeling the need to rewrite parts and making my editing process _even_ longer. I'll leave a wall of unnecessary ramblings in the notes after the chapter so I won't make you have to wait any longer :)  
> please enjoy and let me know what you think! <3

“You what did _what?_ With Hak, of all people?”

Yona hushes Lily, afraid someone else will hear them—even worse, Hak might hear them. He should have class right now, but that hasn’t stopped him before, despite being in his final year. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Lily, but she couldn’t just keep it to herself. Besides, she’s her only girlfriend—she couldn’t possibly talk about this with her guy friends. Or her best friend, since he’s the one it concerns.

“So…what was it like?” Lily leans close to her, whispering this time. They’re lucky their English lesson turned into self-study time due to their teacher’s absence, allowing them to have a girl-talk in the school library. Well, this is probably the closest conversation they have ever had as “girl-talk” since real girl-talk isn’t like how it’s portrayed in the movies.

“I… I don’t know how to describe it,” she scratches the side of her face, stumped.

“Okay, okay. How about I ask more specifically?” Lily’s eyes sparkle like a kid in a candy store as she clasps her hands together. Yona hesitantly agrees, though doesn’t promise to answer every question.

“Alright, question number one,” Lily pauses, building the suspense, “did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t too bad. Mostly hurt in the beginning”

“Did you bleed?” Lily shout-whispers, irritating some students nearby. Someone hushes Lily, reminding them that they’re in the library, making her squeak out an apology.

“I don’t know, it was dark and I didn’t think to check—” all color drains from her face as the realization dawns on her, “—oh no, what if it got on his sheets? That’s so embarrassing…!” Yona hides behind her hands, groaning from embarrassment.

“What made you ask him in the first place?”

“Um, you know those girls who always gossip in the bathrooms?”

“The juniors? The cheerleaders?”

“Yeah. Well, I heard one of them gushing about how _gooood_ —”, Yona imitates the cheerleader, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “—it felt to her friends, since she had slept with some popular jock—whose name I can’t remember—but that’s beside the point. The point is I couldn’t get her words off my mind. I didn’t intend for it to end up the way it did, I just asked him what it was like and one thing lead to another…” She trails off; memories of how she went about it come to mind. How she basically manipulated him, guilt tripped him—emotionally _blackmailed_ him.

“But why Hak? Don’t you find him annoying? Like I know he’s your best friend and all, but sometimes he’s kind of a dick—or asshole, I mean,” Lily places her hand on her shoulder, looking sincere… and worried?

“Because… because I trust him. I knew he would respect my wishes, like if I told him I changed my mind. …He’s—he says rude things sometimes, but he means well,” a small, fond smile blooms on her face as she recites the words he told her, “The last thing he would want to do is hurt me.”

Lily looks at her with wide eyes, like she’s a spectacle or rare species to behold, “Yona, you don’t…”

“What? I don’t what?” She fears for what Lily is thinking, dreading hearing her say those words.

“Do you like him?” She says it with a look that tells her that she doesn’t mean anything other than romance.

Her face flushes to the same shade as her hair, as she stutters, “N-no! He’s my best friend! I like Soo-won!” Even if she hasn’t seen Soo-won that much since he moved to the next town over after his mom died, her feelings for him haven’t changed.

“Hmm, okay then,” Lily giggles as she folds, yet smirking with a grin that says otherwise. She’s misunderstood the situation and is seeing something that isn’t there. Lily wraps her arms around her, trapping her on the spot and thus not allowing her to escape. They get glared at and hushed again; luckily, they’re not thrown out. (Yet.)

“So, was he a good kisser?” she wiggles her eyebrows at her. Though Lily’s smirk quickly fades when she sees Yona’s distant look.

“…we didn’t kiss.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Why does that matter?” Yona furrows her brows at Lily, “—shit, here Jae-ha comes. Don’t say a word about what we just talked about, okay?”

Lily nods, pretending like she’s studying the contents of the book in front of her. Her acting is rather convincing, as she’s had a lot of practice from class.

“What are you two lovely ladies up to?” Jae-ha always the flirt, trying to flatter everyone so he can get in their pants. Hilariously though, he gets hushed. Not so hilariously—they get kicked out for disturbing. Yona sighs, though she anticipated this, bound to happen sooner or later. 

Lily and she didn’t have to make up a lie, so at least something good came out of that. It’s almost lunchtime anyway, so they make their way to the lunch hall and wait for the rest of their friends.

Lunch seems like any other regular Monday at school, making her relax and forget about what happened this weekend. Everyone is gathered around the usual table, except well, you guessed it: the guy who is always fashionably late. Yona is so invested in her conversation with Shin-ah that she almost screams when the man, the myth, the legend (more like the devil) appears from behind her. He reaches for a cookie from her lunch box, stuffing it in his mouth.

“Hey! That was mine!” she slaps his arm, thinking back to what Lily said. Yeah, he’s a dick, alright.

He offers the half eaten cookie, “Sorry, you want it back?” A smirk paints his face, taunting her. 

“…sorry my ass,” she mutters and rolls her eyes, deciding to ignore him and return to talking to Shin-ah. Shin-ah is nice to her, genuinely so. (Unlike someone else.)

Jae-ha hoots something at Hak, which just gets him going. She sighs, at least happy that everything is back to normal. Lunch continues in a similar fashion, though its end draws near and too soon for her liking it is time to wrap things up and get going.

As she gathers her things to leave and head to class, Hak grabs hold of her wrist, “can I talk to you for a moment?”

His grip is one she could easy slip out of, if she wanted to. She doesn’t, even if anxiety is clawing at her throat. Her heart rate picks up pace, thoughts going a mile a minute of what he might say.

“Um, sure?” her voice is high pitched—too high pitched.

“I’ll walk you to your class.” Yona nods and he lets go of her wrist. He looks behind them as they leave the cafeteria before speaking in a low and hurried voice, “I just, uh, was wondering if you told anyone… about, _y’know_.”

“Oh, um—yes? I told Lily…” she clutches her books in her arms a little tighter, glancing up at him, “did you tell anyone?”

He visibly relaxes at her words, shoulders no longer raised and tense, as he replies, “Nope,” making sure to pop the ‘p’. He holds his hands behind his back, looking so casual that you would never suspect them talking about something as awkward as sex. Maybe that’s part of the point.

“Oh right, sorry about the cookie earlier,” he smirks at her, in his usual playful behavior, “Didn’t want anything to seem any different than usual—since nothing’s happened, right?”

Even if he means nothing by it, his words sting a little. Yeah, maybe to him, nothing happened, but to her, it meant a lot. It was her first time after all. 

She smiles meekly at him, trying not to let her true feelings show, “right.”

They stop in front of the door to her classroom and Yona doesn’t really know what to say. What can she even say? _Nice weather we’re having_ —no.

She notices several pairs of eyes from inside the classroom watching them and it makes her anxious, more than she already was feeling from the awkward air between them. Someone calls from the classroom to Hak and he waves back, reminding her that Hak has a social life outside of her little friend group. He’s a jock after all, popular with everyone. The girls want to sleep with him and the guys wish they were him.

“You should go, class starts soon,” she keeps her distance from him, barely even looking at him. She doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

“I suppose so, don’t want to face Mr. Soo-jin’s wrath,” he shoves his hands in his pockets of his varsity jacket and quirks a smile. His eye sparkle with mischief, at least she isn’t the target this time.

“Careful. He might hear you and then you’ll definitely face his wrath,” giggling, she hides her smile behind her books. The look on his face is one of surprise, morphing quickly into one of mirth.

“You’re right, Princess,” his smile is so wide it reaches his eyes, laughing as he ruffles her hair before saying goodbye and heading off towards Mr. Soo-jin’s class. All eyes are on her as she enters the classroom, sliding down into her seat and pretends like she’s studying something in her textbook until her lesson begins.

* * *

By Wednesday afternoon, Yona feels like she’s going to explode. Hak is still acting as if nothing happened and she can’t stop thinking about what actually _did_ happen. Every time she closes her eyes she hears his voice in her ear, feels phantom kisses on her neck and his hands holding her.

She has a really hard time trying to focus during class when all her brain wants to do is think of _that_. And it’s really embarrassing when she realizes that she’s been daydreaming about it again. Even worse, when she’s caught daydreaming. Either she gets in trouble for not listening, or someone fusses over that she probably has a fever and should go to the nurse’s office.

So when Hak sends her a meme, she shoots him a reply before she even can think it through.

` _> Hey, do you wanna come over after school?   
> We can watch a movie_ `

She added the movie part just so it isn’t too obvious—but it really is, huh? She tries to work on her current assignment, but she’s so nervous she can’t focus on anything but her phone, awaiting his response. Luckily, she doesn’t have to wait long at all.

` _> Sure, sounds nice   
> I’ll come over after practice_ `

She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face, feeling all giddy. What is this? It’s just Hak and he’s been in her room before. Lily’s words come to mind, _‘do you like him?’_ Well, of course she likes him. He’s her best friend. But best friends don’t usually daydream about each other in the way that she has, right?

She’s not so naïve and inexperienced to think that everyone who has sex are romantically interested in each other. She’s not even sure that they’ll do it again, but a girl can dream, right? There’s such thing as friends with benefits, so it’s not _that_ weird for friends to have a casual, no strings attached, sexual relationship. It was the deed she liked, not the guy. If it was Soo-won… Well, it’s easier to do something like this without the romance—it’s less pressure that way.

She thought some pretty embarrassing things during _ahem—_ her first time and she’s sure it was just the hormones making her think that way. He’s physically attractive, but he’s still Hak. Annoying and rude, with a pretty face. Geez, she sounds like she’s arguing with someone, trying to justify herself—like she’s in court and she’s being accused of a crime she didn’t do.

When the bell rings, she rushes home to clean her room, realizing mid-vacuuming what she’s doing. Sheesh, something will seem off if she all of a sudden has a really clean room. He’s seen her at her worst, but that doesn’t mean she can’t make him see her at her best. Nevertheless, she shouldn’t also make it so obvious.

Wait, make what obvious? She doesn’t like him or anything. She’s decided that. She likes Soo-won—it’s always been that way. So why would her feelings suddenly have changed?

He shows up once the sun starts to set, with wet hair, panting as he’s out of breath, “sorry, practice pulled over. I came as fast as I could.”

“Oh! It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” she ushers him in, trying to ignore how attractive his wet hair makes him look. Besides his wet hair, he looks like he usually does, with his varsity jacket and sports duffle bag hanging from his shoulder.

He follows her into her room, “I was going to text you, but I figured that it would only slow me down—but I probably should have anyway—”

She places her hand on his arm, “Hak. Really, it’s okay.”

She looks up into his eyes and has to fight herself from moving his wet bangs out of his face. A drop of water runs down the center of his face, dripping off his nose. Another drop clings to his long eyelashes, falling onto his cheek as he blinks his eyes.

Taking a step back, she hurriedly lets him know that she’ll be right back, before dashing off to the bathroom. She returns with a clean towel, which she drapes over his head.

“You’ll catch a cold like that, you know,” she chides, standing on her tippy-toes and leans on him to ruffle the towel on his head. Even on the tips of her toes she can’t quite reach, so he has to lower his head. Damn him for being so tall. She tries to ignore how her heart leaps from the feeling of her body pressed up against his, memories from last weekend flashing before her eyes.

Hak smirks, “That’s not how you catch a cold.”

“Oh shush, you…” she mutters, ruffling his hair a little bit more intensely. Just a little bit, teeny-tiny bit. He chuckles at her, loving every moment he bullies her. Rude.

Since he’s just showered, the scent of him is more potent than usual, flooding her senses. She’s not very good at describing things, but he smells very clean and masculine, as one would expect.

She loses her balance (just a little) from her _slightly_ more intense hair ruffling making him steady her by her waist. The touch is objectively nothing much, but becomes overwhelming and she feels the need to distance herself a little, fearing what she might do if she doesn’t.

She lets go of the towel, leaving it on his hair and steps back, “you can do it yourself then, meanie.” He chuckles again, rubbing the towel on his hair.

“What, I was just telling you that there’s no science behind that claim,” his eyes twinkle like they usually do when he’s mischievous like this. Oh, two can play this game.

“Well, technically there is,” she crosses her arms and smirks back at him.

“Oh please do share, oh mighty Princess.”

Oh, so now he’s mocking her too? Why’s he always being a dick? He better watch it, or she’ll pounce on him—erm, figuratively of course.

“Being wet and cold weakens your immune system and therefore making you more susceptible to infections,” she cocks her hip to the side and raises an eyebrow at him.

He chuckles, “Fine. You win, Princess,” ruffling her hair playfully and flashes that really handsome smile of his. She can’t help but think of it as a reward for winning their little game, but she knows it isn’t. He doesn’t know she likes his smile and she plans on keeping it that way—he’d only tease her. He hangs the towel over her desk chair, his hair now damp rather than wet.

“So, what movie are we watching?” He sits down, or well jumps, beside her on her bed. God, he’s so childish yet endearing. The mattress squeaking as she bounces on it, making embarrassing fantasies fabricate in her mind.

“Well, what would you say if I said we’re not watching a movie?” her heart is beating so loudly she can hear it as she feels qualm build in her gut—maybe it was a bad idea after all.

He blinks his eyes stupidly at her, “what do you—oh.” Something recognizable flashes in his eyes as the pieces fall into place somewhere in his head. Maybe he figured it out because of the look on her face: a look of desire and pink cheeks. That something in his eyes disappears as quickly as it appeared, as if it were a strike of lightning. Yet it was visible long enough for her to know she’s seen it before, but she doesn’t know from where.

“My dad will be home late, so… if you wanna…” it must be written all over her face how badly she wants him. She will probably die of mortification if he rejects her. The crazy (well, desperate) things you do when you are in lo—lust.

Before she has time to rethink anything, he nods and embraces her. She’s surprised and unprepared, but quickly relaxes against him. Wrapping her arms around him, she snuggles close and breathes in his strong, intoxicating scent. She doesn’t know why, but every time his hands hold her waist or small of her back, she gets goosebumps. Perhaps it’s due to the intimacy of his touch.

He tucks her curly ( _unruly_ ) hair behind her ear, exposing her neck. She wonders if he can see her pulse thumping there, revealing her nervous yet excited anticipation. Even if he can’t see it, he must feel it, when his mouth latches onto her skin, right above her pulse point. She gasps his name, “Hak…” clutching at his jacket.

His kisses on her neck are different from last time: they’re more forceful and last longer. No matter how nice they are, she’s impatient. She starts pulling off his varsity jacket, distracting him from her neck. He leans back, his pretty sapphire eyes making contact with her violet ones that probably don’t look violet anymore. They must be black; all color since long swallowed by her dilated pupils. 

She tugs on his jacket, commanding, “Off.”

“Impatient, Princess?” He smirks yet obliges, pulling off his jacket, now only wearing a fitted black t-shirt on his torso. It’s flattering on him, though she prefers that he’d wear nothing at all.

Yona grabs the hem of his t-shirt, “this too.” He quirks an eyebrow before complying, pulling it over his head. She’s seen him shirtless countless times before, but only a handful times this close. She tentatively reaches her fingers out, pressing her palm to his chest. His heart beats under her touch—it beats fast, just like hers. It comforts her, knowing that she isn’t the only one getting worked up.

Before she can chicken out, she pulls her top off too. She presses herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. With her nose, she draws circular patterns on his skin before testing out kissing his neck. She starts very lightly, unsure of what she’s doing, but after a couple faint brushes of her lips, she seems to get the hang of it.

His skin tastes very little since he just showered, but there’s a faint taste of salt and something bitter. The bitterness must be from some perfume or something—Yona has more experience with involuntarily consuming perfume than she will dare to admit. She didn’t know he wears something like that, but it smells like he usually does.

The scent of him is most potent right here, filling her senses with only him. She dares to try leaving hard kisses on him too, though she’s unsure of how. She presses her lips more firmly against his skin, before lightly sucking on his skin. His breath hitches—aha, so he likes that. Her lips quirk in an amused smile as she continues leaving kisses on his neck while trailing her hands down his torso, finding the top of his jeans.

She pauses her work on his neck, focusing on unbuttoning his jeans. But before she can undo the button, his hand stops her. She gives him a puzzled look, tilting her head to the side. The look on his face however, is a sight to behold: flushed cheeks and dark—dare she say— _hungry_ eyes. She didn’t realize how badly she’s affected him, his chest is heaving and his jeans are strained.

She bites her lower lip, nudging her hand against his pants while keeping eye contact. She continues, slowly increasing the force of her touch. Usually she’d be shy and embarrassed, but she feels a sudden rush of confidence and courage from seeing how bothered he is by her touch. (Of course, she doesn’t forget how he doesn’t find her attractive, but she shoves those thoughts down, as they’ll just sour her mood.)

Yona moves her hands to his chest, pushing him lightly, pushing him down into her mattress. It feels weird hover above him, yet it’s exhilarating. She leans back, sitting on his thigh as she goes for the button of his pants again; this time, he doesn’t stop her. The button comes undone and the zipper follows suit. She grabs hold of the top part of the pants, trying to wiggle them down.

“Why’d you have to wear skinny jeans…?” she mutters through her frustration, “like, I know your butt looks good in them—but they’re really difficult to remove.”

Hak snorts, seemingly unable to hold his laughter in.

“Wha—instead of laughing at me, how about you help me?” she moves off his leg, trying to yank his skinny jeans off.

“m’kay, Princess. Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” he smirks, his voice oozing sarcasm. He hooks his thumbs inside the pants, bucking his hips and pulls them off in one swift movement.

“How the heck—” she’s astonished and salty. She put so much effort into trying to remove them and here he is with his ninja skinny-jean-removing skills! You know what: she’ll show him she can do it too.

She undoes the button to her own jeans, lying down beside him to make the same bucking motion with her hips. She almost manages to pull them completely off, getting stuck on her ankles. Frustrated, she attempts to kick them off, but fails and ends up turning them inside out.

Fortunately, Hak sits up and helps her, though in exchange for his help, she has to listen to his mocking laughter, “do you need a little help, hmm Princess?” She rolls her eyes fondly as he grabs the pants at her ankles, slipping the fabric passed.

With her pants now gone, she feels rather exposed, only in her underwear. Well, so is Hak and she’s _technically_ less exposed since she has a bra too. She watches his eyes, seeing as they scan her body before meeting with hers. She herself struggles to keep her own eyes away from his body, like there’s a magnet pulling them to him.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any condoms?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, she feels her heart drop.

Oh…

Fuck.

She forgot one of the essential parts to having sex. And there really aren’t many parts to it: bare necessity is a consenting partner, safe environment and protection from STDs (STIs?) like chlamydia and babies. Yes, pregnancy is an STD—and that’s a fact. She almost wants to cry, getting this far and yet it’s out of her reach.

“—ah Princess, don’t worry,” he gets off her bed, crouching beside his duffle bag on the floor. She sits up and watches him dig around in his bag, assuming he’s looking for a condom. She’s happy that Hak’s not one of those guys who would suggest that they’d skip protection. She knows he’s not like that, but this just solidifies that belief—that _trust_ , in him.

“I never thought I’d say this, but Coach Geun-Tae was right. It is a good idea to have some in here,” he mumbles with his back towards her and it’s unclear whether he’s talking to her or himself. He unzips a small pocket on the inside of the bag, comically raising his hand with the wrapper in the air while exclaiming “aha!”

Yona giggles behind her hand, relieved and amused. She feels something warm grow in her chest, spreading slowly throughout her body, melting her from the inside out. She doesn’t know what it is, but it always seems to appear when Hak is, well, being Hak. It’s feels nice, like she’s wrapped up in a warm blanket—or maybe like a kotatsu.

Hak chucks the wrapper at her, making her squeal, “Why’d you give it to me?”

“Fun,” he sits down on the edge of the bed next to her, moving her long hair behind her shoulder. She tries to hand it back to him, but he asks her, “Will you open it for me? I somehow always fail to open it.” (Always?)

“Oh, okay,” she holds the wrapper in both her hands, trying to tear it open. Her hands slip a few times before she manages to get it open, letting out a victorious whisper and fist pumping, “yes!” He chuckles at her, taking the wrapper as she hands it to him. Taking the condom out of the wrapper, he chucks the wrapper on the floor.

Hak smirks, “You gonna watch, or?”

Yona crosses her arms and huffs, “you know what? Yes, I will.” She pins a serious look on him, not falling victim to his taunts. She’s not a virgin, so seeing his, um— _manhood_ shouldn’t be a big deal.

He raises an eyebrow at her, “suit yourself.” He hooks his thumbs inside his boxers and pulls them down. Yona looks away last minute, hiding behind her hands.

Hak laughs at her, teasing, “what happened, Princess?” She thought she would be able to look, but she also remembers that if she watches, she won’t be able to get _that_ image out of her head. She already has enough things she shouldn’t be picturing during class; she doesn’t need more to add to that list. 

“…I changed my mind,” she mumbles behind her hands, peeking at his face through her fingers.

“m’kay. Do you want me to turn off the lights?” he chuckles, his voice gentle—no longer teasing.

She nods, crawling under the covers as he shuts off the lights. She shimmies her underwear off and keeps her eyes off him until he’s back on the bed. The room isn’t nearly as dark as last time, though she prefers it this way. The lighting is soft and romantic, neither too bright nor too dark—it’s just right.

He climbs in under the covers behind her and moves her hair from her nape before kissing it lightly. The action reminds her of when he kissed her nape last—when he touched her under the kotatsu. She rolls over onto her back, turning her head towards him to look into his (pretty) eyes. His eyes are watching her, dark and lidded.

She raises her arm above the covers, hand starting to trace circles on his chest. He covers her hand with his, pressing her hand flush with his skin. The thumping of his heart pounds against her hand, strong and steady. It’s beating slower than hers—hers is about to jump out of her chest.

Yona takes hold of his hand, placing it on her chest below her collarbones, but not quite atop her bust. Her heartbeat races against his palm as she literally bares her heart to him. She watches his eyes, attempting to read him. Usually Hak is rather easy to read, but not when they’re like this. She noticed that last time too—that sometimes he gets a look on his face which she can’t decipher. Like the look on his face right now.

“Hak?”

The intensity of his gaze makes her self-conscious, like he can see every single one of her insecurities. Her heart beats even faster than before—how that’s even possible, she doesn’t know. He hums and moves his hand to her waist while still looking at her like that.

What could he possibly be thinking about, while giving her such a scrutinizing look? Sure, he still looks attractive—that’s part of why it makes her anxious—but she doesn’t like this look on him. It’s unknown to her. Hell, it’s more nerve-wracking than what they’re about to do. She holds her arms to her chest, in a failed attempt to cover herself up, to hide from his prying eyes.

It’s only then he pulls her against him by her waist, mumbling into her hair, “Sorry, you’re distracting.”

The action surprises her yet comforts her, no longer trapped by his gaze. Yona furrows her brows, wondering what he could possibly mean by his words. Distracting? From what?

Ironically, she gets distracted, by the feeling of her body against his. She forgets about her moment of insecurity, like it never happened. To get back on track, she starts pressing light kisses to his chest, working her way up to his neck. Once she’s reached his collarbones, he rolls over on his back. She follows him, now resting her torso on his as she continues her ministrations.

She’s so caught up in leaving her trail of kisses that she barely notices that she’s gotten on top of him, her legs on either side of his waist. His hands grip her hips, nothing more, nothing less. Well, that won’t do, will it?

“Hak,” she whispers in his ear, almost commanding, “Touch me.”

And Hak?

Well, he does just so. 

His hand trails agonizingly slow from her hip to her abdomen, making her impatient. She rocks her hips towards his hand, trying to grant her the friction she needs. That seems to do the trick, since in the next moment his fingers are where she wants them to be. In the few days that passed since he last touched her, she’s managed to forget just how good his touch is—how _amazing_ it feels when he touches her.

She pants onto his neck; light moans of his name escape against her will. Her hips instinctively roll into his hand, seeking more and more friction. Somewhere, amidst her aroused hazed thoughts, she hears his heavy breathing, reminding her that he’s aroused too.

Leaning back, she looks at his face, finding dark, lust-filled eyes. He looks like something out of a movie, too picture-perfect to be real—yet, here he is. His pitch black, shiny hair looks styled and his thick, long eyelashes look like he’s wearing mascara or eyeliner.

He really does look like he’s mastered the art of the ‘no makeup’-makeup look. His cheeks have a faint blush to them—which is in fact warm under her touch, confirming that it’s a real blush and not some remarkable makeup skills. He leans into her touch on his cheek, closing his eyes, only reopening them at the sound of her voice, “Hak… please.”

He doesn’t need to ask her what she wants, since it must be written all over her face. Guiding her hips back, he lines her up with himself. Her eyes flutter close and she sighs as he enters her. It feels different from last time since now she’s the one in control. Well, she wasn’t exactly out of control last time, but now she gets to decide.

His grip tightens on her thighs as she sinks down all the way. In some ways, it’s just like last time, like the tightness and fullness she feels from having him inside her, but this time, there’s barely any pain. She’d be lying if she said there was no pain, but it’s nowhere near what it was like the first time. Maybe by her third time there’ll be no pain at all. Gosh, she’s getting ahead of herself. She should be grateful she gets to have a second time, hell even just the first time, with Hak.

Yona rolls her hips, giving her the long sought after stimulation and friction. Placing her palms on his chest, she pushes herself off him and straightens her posture. Sitting straight up is too much—she’s too sensitive—so she opts for somewhere in between that and lying on top of him. She elevates her hips before carefully dropping them back down.

The flush on his cheeks has spread down to his chest, across his nose and to the tips of his ears. She absentmindedly finds it cute, trying to commit his appearance to memory as it’s not often she gets to see him without his signature smirk or collected look.

His ragged breath dries his lips, causing his tongue to dart out to wet them, catching her eye. His lips felt soft on her neck, and she wonders if they’d feel just as soft on hers. The thought makes her subconsciously lick her lips, as she watches his every little reaction to her touch.

She squeezes her pelvic muscles, causing Hak to grunt and buck his hips. The movement of his hips catches her off guard, sending tingling sensations throughout her body and makes her moan. He quirks an eyebrow at her, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Her thighs start aching and they’ve barely started. There’s no way she’s quitting now, continuing on sheer willpower. Something sparkles in his eyes, something that she recognizes as mischief. Oh no.

“You okay there, Princess?” He’s full-on smirking now, getting cocky. He better watch it, alright. She lifts her hips as high as she can without letting him slip out, slamming her hips back down as payback for that smug attitude of his.

“mhmm, how about you Hak?” She smirks back at him, satisfied by his groan and tightened grip on her hips. Repeating the movement, she bites down on her lip to silence her moans.

It happens all too fast; somehow, she’s underneath him, gasping as her head hits the pillow. His eyes are dark, almost predatory, as he leans over her. In the back of her head, she’s salty since he didn’t reply. Rude. But presently, the feeling of him pressing into her again distracts her. His hands grip her hips, holding them in place. He’s rougher than last time, but not rough enough.

“Hak,” she pants his name, breathless, “mm, please…”

He presses his lips to her neck before humming against it, his voice vibrating on her neck. The sensation sets her skin ablaze, burning beneath wherever he touches. Her skins really does feel like its burning, as its hot to the touch—almost hot enough to fry an egg on it.

Yet she wants more, she wants her skin to be so hot that it blisters, that it melts off of her. She wants the heat to mar her skin, leaving permanence of this moment, of these emotions. Once her memory no longer serves her correctly, she can look back at this moment with a nostalgic smile on her face, as she’d always have a piece of it left.

She _craves_ for more.

(She always does, doesn’t she?)

“Hak, I won’t break…” she lets the words slip out of her mouth, the words she otherwise wouldn’t be caught dead uttering, “so please, go harder…”

And just like last time (gosh, she should stop comparing it), Hak the ever obedient servant obliges with her selfish, _selfish_ request, yet again.

He adjusts the angle of her hips, hooking his arm under her leg and pulls it up, allowing him to reach deeper into her and _oh_ —she can’t hold back the raw moan that leaves her lips, caused by him hitting that sensitive spot inside her that she didn’t even know truly existed. Clinging to him with all her might, she rakes her nails across his back as she feels heat radiate from her very being.

All the little sounds from him are what keep her from entering a lust fueled psychosis, keeping her grounded. The sounds that also help ease her guilt—that maybe he enjoys this too, that he’s not just doing this out of some twisted sense of duty.

She didn’t ask (well, manipulate) him the same way as last time, but she didn’t exactly give him much choice either. Shit, that was like the one thing she knew she shouldn’t have done, and now she’s done it again. Well, maybe not completely, but he wasn’t expecting this either.

His breathing on her neck is erratic and so are the open-mouthed kisses he presses to her skin. He lingers on a spot behind her ear particularly long, pulling her skin in between his teeth. The combination of all the sensations, rock her to her core, making her gasp for air with his name on her lips and thread her fingers through his hair.

Hak grunts, “fuck, Yona,” breathing directly into her ear as he holds her firmly yet carefully against him. Hearing him say her name again feels just as special as last time, making her need to blink back tears yet again. Her heart feels so full of something she can’t place—but it’s overwhelming and threatens to spill if she doesn’t use all of her strength to contain it.

Yona squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to stop her tears from falling, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He grunts one final time, reaching his climax. His heart beats against hers, slowing down as he comes down from his high.

He raises his head, looking into her eyes. His eyes sparkle in a way she rarely every sees, soft and gentle. His smile is equally gentle: lopsided.

The moment is broken when he ruffles her hair, “stop looking so serious, Princess.”

She opens her mouth to tell him she’s not, when he adds with a wry smirk, “you’ll get wrinkles before you’re even 20.”

“Wha—!” She’s so stunned by his rude comment that he slips out of her grasp, evading her flailing arms. She doesn’t chase after him nor look at him, not wanting to catch a glimpse of what she’s been avoiding looking at this whole time. Instead, she busies herself with trying to find her underwear that she swears she put somewhere under her covers.

“Whatcha looking for?” She was so busy scouring her bed she didn’t even realize he was back from wherever he went. Did he leave her room butt naked? At least he’s wearing his boxers now.

“My underwear,” she continues reaching in under the covers, trying to feel around for them, “have you seen them?”

He sits down on the side of her bed, “Princess, do you have a habit of misplacing your underwear?”

“No, and I didn’t lose them last time,” she mutters, growing more impatient. She could just grab a new pair, but that would involve getting out of bed and exposing herself to him. Also, it would be bad if she lost a pair of used underwear in her room—her father would get suspicious, if not grossed out, if he stumbled upon them.

“Is it these ones?” He’s holding a pair in his hand and— _of course,_ it is the ones she was looking for. Her face burns as she takes her underwear back from him, mumbling her thanks.

“I found them on the floor, right here next your bed, so I didn’t purposely hide them from you—if that’s what you’re thinking.” The smirk on his face says otherwise.

“I didn’t think so, but now I do,” Yona crosses her arms and pins her stare on him.

“Of course you do, Princess,” he chuckles, getting off her bed to get dressed. She copies him, slipping on her top and underwear. Her pants are somewhere on the floor, but she doesn’t want them—jeans aren’t comfortable to lounge in. Getting out of her bed, she tiptoes over to her closet without Hak noticing. She grabs her favorite pair of pj-bottoms and slips them on too, before sneaking back into her bed.

He joins her on her bed again, fully dressed. “So, was this just a roundabout way of making a booty call?” He quirks an eyebrow at her, teasing as always.

“Ah—I’m sorry,” her cheeks are on fire: mortified. She feels as if she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar—Hak has that effect on her.

Always making her feel like she’s a kid again, but not in the same way as Soo-won does. Hak pushes her buttons and Soo-won treats her like she is a kid. The difference lies in the fact that Hak _knows_ she’s not a kid while Soo-won doesn’t.

But maybe now with a little bit of experience she can change Soo-won’s mind, see her as the woman she’s becoming. Perhaps it’s too soon though; she wouldn’t want to fall on the finish line.

“You could’ve just said so,” Hak shrugs and looks at his watch, “when was your father going to be home?”

“Um, I don’t know. He just said he was going to be late.”

“Hmm, okay. Should I get out of your hair before that?”

“Maybe that’s a good idea…” she’s torn between wanting his company and wanting to be alone. She wants to try and detangle her cluster fuck of feelings, which she can’t do if he’s here. But she also doesn’t want to be alone—it’s getting dark outside. But she can’t always count on him to chase away her monsters. “Mundok and Tae-yeon must be wondering where you are.”

He clears his throat, “Right. Well then, I should get going.” He grabs his things and Yona walks him to the front door in silence, not knowing what to say. Why does she always make things awkward? Ugh, Yona say something!

“Well… I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch—as per usual?”

“Yeah,” he rubs his neck, his lips twitching momentarily into a forced smile. Wow, she’s got great communication skills—she knows this. Hak, on the other hand, is a little bit better than her in that department, usually knowing how to lighten the mood with a joke, “Same procedure as every day, Princess.”

She’s appalled at him for implying that she’s his servant from the old short film that they usually together on New Year’s Eve, “Excuse me! If anything, you’re James and I’m Miss Sophie!”

“What, you want me to impersonate your dead friends and get drunk?”

“Well, you’d do a better job than me!” Hak bursts out in laughter and ruffles her hair again. She swats at him, but also giggles. He’s _not_ funny—laughter is contagious. Right?

“Well, I’ll do my very best,” he winks, impersonating the servant’s last line from the film. Said line before James and Miss Sophie turn in for the night—oh that pervert! She whacks him again, but he dodges, escaping out the front door. She doesn’t chase after him, not wanting to get her socks dirty.

“Don’t miss me too much now, Princess!” he calls to her from her front yard, waving with a sly grin on his face. She slams the door, whispering under her breath, “narcissist.”

She slides down to the floor, resting her back against the door. Something surges throughout her, something powerful that makes her entire body shake. It makes her expel sounds that she can’t decide if they’re laughter or sobs. It’s almost as if she can feel every contraction and release her heart makes, as it gallops in her ribcage. Throwing her head back, she purposely hits her head on the door in an attempt to bring her out of whatever this is.

At least she’s not crying nor hyperventilating—but what is it? Her eyes meet her own in the reflection of the hallway mirror and she can’t recognize herself. The grin on her lips is near demonic and her eyes look crazy. Has she gone insane? Her hair is the messiest she has ever seen, and thus not helping her case. (Gosh, she better not looked like this while they…)

Taking deep breaths and slapping her cheeks, she heaves herself off the floor. She closes her eyes for a moment to try and stabilize her sanity, continuing taking deep breaths imagining a therapist instructing her.

_‘Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth.’_

It helps, but not for long as the imaginative therapist quickly transforms into Hak, mocking her with his instructions.

_‘Come on Princess, inhale through your potato nose and exhale through your big mouth. Try not to catch any bugs while you gape.’_

Running into her room, she groans and throws herself onto her bed, jamming her face into her pillow. Seriously, what’s wrong with her? Why won’t her heart calm down? And why can’t she think of anything but Hak and his stupid face?

Her pillow faintly smells like him and is counterintuitive as it calms her down. Well, he’s always had this kind of effect on her (besides irritating her). She feels safe with him, always there for her to depend on. She needs to hurry up and become strong and independent, so she can become someone dependable too.

She can’t rely on him forever. He isn’t her servant and she isn’t his princess. She doesn’t want him to be her servant, but the thought of not being his princess—it _hurts_. If she’s not his princess, then whose is she? She’s not Soo-won’s and he’s the only other person who calls her that.

She shouldn’t want to be owned—it’s objectifying, _dehumanizing_ even—but she longs for someone to call her theirs. And in return, the right to call someone hers. Sighing, she rolls over onto her back, draping her arm over her eyes. She doesn’t let herself entertain the thought of calling Hak her own, since it will never happen. She doesn’t necessarily want to own him; she just doesn’t want anyone else to have him.

Sheesh, how selfish can you get?

A hopeless romantic is what she is, in love with the idea of love. She needs to stop whatever this thing between them is, before it spins out of control. Yona has always followed rules and—and rationality, never being rather rebellious.

Until now that is.

She knows that continuing this—this _thing_ between her and Hak—it will come back and bite her in the ass, but she knew that when she started this. If her heart is going to break, she might as well make it break into as many tiny, little pieces as possible.

That’s called experience, right?

Or maybe more like trauma. She sounds like some teenage edge lord, _‘Life is pain. Life is suffering.’_

No wait.

That was Buddha.

Eh, still edgy. Yona isn’t edgy. She’s the sweet, soft, feminine, girly girl she always has been, been since she was little. She doesn’t necessarily mind, but she wants a change. Sex didn’t change her, which she knew it wouldn’t, but still felt the need to confirm.

Sitting up, she catches her reflection again in the mirror. Her hair still looks as appalling as it did… how many minutes ago? She’s lost track of time. Anyway, nothing has changed with her hair since when Hak left. It’s matted, tangled and her cowlick is well, being a cowlick.

She lugs herself over to her vanity, running her fingers through her bangs to pull them off her forehead. She’s never been fond of her hair, except well, when Soo-won compared it to the sky at dawn.

An exasperated sigh passes her lips as her bangs refuse to lie where they should. She’s considered just chopping all of her hair off before—well not _all_ of it—but has decided against it, as it’s the only thing that makes her different. Even if she hates it herself, she knows other people like it.

But then again Hak said she was unattractive. And also distracting? Perhaps her lack of sex appeal was making it hard for him to concentrate on, uh _that_. So it wouldn’t really matter what her hair looked like. Hak’s opinion doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care.

_‘Keep telling yourself that, Princess,’_ his mocking voice chuckles in her head.

“I don’t care,” she mutters, detangling her hair with her fingers. His voice keeps on taunting her and she wonders yet again if she’s really gone mad. Well, if she’s gone mad, then she might as well embrace it.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Yanking her hair, she repeats herself, chanting the words like a mantra with more and more irritation progressively slipping into her voice, “I don’t care. I don’t care—I don’t care!”

The volume of her raw voice scares her, breaking her out of her trance and forcing her eyes to her reflection as she holds a pair of scissors to her hair. The scissors clatter as they land on her vanity, her arm jolting away from them. Embracing her insanity wasn’t a good idea after all. If Hak saw her, he’d laugh at her, right?

She scoffs. Hak’s opinion doesn’t matter.

A shower is what she needs. Away with the grime and her messy hair, at the same time as keeping her mind occupied, as curly hair is best dealt with when wet.

The chill of the water soothes her, opting for cold water to clear her mind. She takes her time conditioning and detangling her hair, ironically finding it almost therapeutic. By the time her hair is all tangle free, it looks as if she’s lost half of her hair down the drain, not looking forward to digging that out of the drain.

But she can’t leave it for her dad: that would be mean and spoiled. She knows she’s spoiled, but she’s actively trying not to be. And besides, it’s practice for when she moves away from home since she’ll have to do it then.

Wrapping a towel around herself, she grabs her softer, microfiber towel used just for her hair. Yeah okay, that sounds pretentious, but it makes her hair less frizzy. She scrunches her hair with the towel, squeezing out as much water as she can before gently wrapping it up atop her head, trying not to disturb her curls.

Lifting the cover for the drain, she scoops the dark red, wet hair ball out with a q-tip while squealing, “ew ew ew!” as she dumps it in the trash. She looks at the hair mass in the trash, crossing her arms and smirking triumphantly.

That’s right. She’s a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man to clean her drain.

But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a man, quite the opposite. But she’s taking a step in the right direction, towards maturity. Guys like that, right?

_‘Stop it! Stop changing yourself for other people!’_ She slaps her cheeks again, needing to remind herself that. Maybe once she finally stops using this thought pattern, she’ll be the strong individual she dreams of being.

But until then, she decides it’s okay to rely on Hak.

Her decision calms her, finally feeling at ease. It’s a weight off her shoulders, off her chest, off her heart. She can finally breathe again.

The reflection in the mirror is new, but it’s still her. The change she desires is slowing happening as she’s still evolving. She’s content with her progress.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###### Reference notes: 
> 
> The short film Hak and Yona joke about is [Dinner for One](https://youtu.be/b1v4BYV-YvA) (I didn't know the name of it so I had to google it lol) and is a short film from the 1960s shown in the Nordic countries (as well as other countries) on New Years Eve as tradition. The catchphrase from it is _"Same procedure as every year"_ and is what Hak is referring to. I highly recommend you watch it if you haven't seen it (it's only 10 min) and (according to Wikipedia) has even been called "the greatest cult film you've never heard of"
> 
> The Buddha thing by Yona ("Life is pain, life is suffering") is paraphrased by my teacher (teacher by day, memelord by night--who should not have access to Photoshop xd)
> 
> Speaking of memes, I _of course_ couldn't help myself from making a meme (sorry not sorry lol only took 20 min xd)
> 
> and while we're at it, I might as well mention the embarrassing fact that I sat and licked my hand for a while to try and figure out how to describe how his skin should taste (and yes, I'm the one who's previously involuntarily consumed a lot of perfume lol)
> 
> ###### Here's my ramblings I mentioned in the "fore"notes (lol) 
> 
> Like I said, I've been struggling to figure out how to get the story to feel more "fleshed out" and not just straight up porn lol so idk if the whole school scenes seem natural (especially since I'm writing the story as if they're in an American high school and I'm not American so...). I don't really know how to end things (ongoing problem for me lmao) so that's maybe why it may seem like a somewhat awkward end, though I do think I managed to end it okay. 
> 
> I've also been busy with school and as of Wednesday has been moved to digital platforms due to the virus, so that's been an experience of its own... luckily I go to a tech-oriented school so at least my teachers are rather good with that aspect (emphasis on rather, heh).
> 
> Sorry for this wall of text lol I didn't really know where else to post it as tumblr is kind of dead and not everyone who follows this fic follows my tumblr (which is kind of equally dead as tumblr, occasionally springing to life). I'm not sure if anyone will read this entire note, but I felt the need to get this off my chest.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> I'm afraid I don't know when the next chapter will be out, as I haven't even started working on it yet, but I have a rough idea of what I want it to entail. 
> 
> Consider this chapter like a reverse birthday gift or smth lol. not so subtle self-promo of my birthday tomorrow (Friday) 
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! I got so many last time--I was pleasantly surprised so many liked this fic <33 I myself struggle with leaving comments so I totally get it if commenting is nerve-wracking or if you don't know what to say. Even keysmash comments or emoticons (or emojis, if that's your thing) are welcome! <3 I will always reply (though it might take me a while if I forget to check AO3 lol)
> 
> P.S. Hak did throw out the condom wrapper later lol when Yona was searching for her underwear xd


	3. the morning rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Hak? What’s it like to kiss someone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! Sorry for the _suuuper_ long wait! (like 6 or 7 weeks???) >V< I hope the content and length will make up for it!
> 
> as usual, I’ll leave a ~~wall of text and~~ list of references/footnotes down below the fic! Though they aren’t necessarily important, they may give better insight! I’ve added them as clickable footnotes, though if you’re using a pointing device (e.g. a mouse, sorry touch screen users), you can simply hover over the footnote instead of clicking to save yourself the effort of clicking back and forth lol. I personally prefer reading on my phone, but only write on the computer. Either way, it should work—please let me know if it doesn’t! ^^
> 
> Slight spoilers for the movie “Speed” from 1994 with Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock—sorry! I tried to be as spoilerless as possible while still retaining a flow of the story. 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy! ^^

Warm hands.

Strong arms.

Flexing muscles.

Soft hair.

Alluring scent.

Sparkling eyes.

Crinkles at the corners.

That damn _smile_ —

“—Yona!”

“—huh? Sorry, what did you say?” She was caught daydreaming again. Damn. Something must be wrong with her.

Lily crosses her arms and huffs, “Let’s finish this assignment and then you can get your head back in the clouds or la la land—or wherever it is you go.”

Yona’s cheeks burn in embarrassment as she nods, trying harder to focus on the assignment. Philosophy isn’t quite her favorite subject, though she must admit that it’s more fun than she initially thought it would be. Sometimes it’s hard to understand everything completely and the vast amount of complex terminologies don't exactly help either. 

Ironic. One of the founding principles of philosophy is pedagogy. It’s not pedagogical to throw a bunch of weird words at her. She scratches her head with the back of her pencil and cannot for the life of her remember the answer to the question.

“What was Hume’s law again?”

“The ‘is–ought’ problem,” Shin-ah explains, though it doesn’t really help. She blinks her eyes at him, silently asking him to continue. “The ‘is–ought’ problem or often called Hume’s law, is the problem that simply because something _is_ , doesn’t mean it _ought_ —or _has,_ to be.”

“I think I get it…” she nods her head as the gears start turning in her head, “Like, just because the law, in certain countries, says it’s illegal to for same-sex couples to marry, doesn’t mean it ought to be? It's moral principles that should decide that, right?”

“Humeʼs law is the foundation of normative ethics,” Lily adds and Shin-ah nods as she scribbles down her answer. Only one question left, and then she’s finally done. All this thinking is making her warm and sweaty, and her hair really isn’t helping. She should’ve chopped it off yesterday. For now, she settles for a bun on the top of her head, letting her neck breathe.

“Yona…” Shin-ah’s voice is hushed, though it usually is, so she doesn’t think much of it. She hums questioningly, meeting his eyes.

“What’s… how did you get a bruise behind your ear?” She furrows her brows, opening her mouth to reply _‘what are you talking about’_ when it hits her.

Oh no.

Slapping her hand over the mark, she stutters, “i-it’s nothing!” Her cheeks turn several shades of crimson. Shit! She completely forgot about it and Shin-ah’s perfect vision _of course_ had to pick up on it.

Shin-ah looks really surprised and—god, he’s so innocent. Thank goodness it was Shin-ah and not say, Jae-ha— _or worse,_ her dad. She shivers at the thought, hoping to remember to keep her hair down for the rest of the day. Oh boy, Hak is going to get an earful later.

Before she has time to unravel her hair from her bun, Lily wonders what she’s screaming about. Fair enough, Yona was rather loud. But Lily knows the truth and Yona hasn’t told her about yesterday. _Fuck._

As she’s yanking her scrunchie out of her hair and disrupting her curls _(shit)_ , Lily leans in close to her neck and gasps dramatically behind her hand. Poor Shin-ah looks so confused and she feels sorry for him.

“Yonaaa—,” Lily wails, and before she can say anything else, Yona has freed her hair from her scrunchie and slaps a hand over Lily’s mouth. Her face is beet red now and people are staring at them. Giving her a pleading look, she silently tells her that she’ll explain later. Thankfully, Lily nods, probably noticing the prying stares from their classmates.

“Sorry, I flicked Yona really hard behind her ear yesterday, so that’s how come she has a bruise there,” Lily lies through her teeth to Shin-ah, as if its second nature. Such skills do come in handy, that’s for sure.

Yona chuckles awkwardly, “yeah, it’s _so_ embarrassing. Please don’t tell anyone.” Not that she thinks Shin-ah will, but it’s better to err on the side of caution. He nods, seeming to believe their oh-so-obvious lie.

The loud shrill of the bell slices through the stiff air—finally, class is over. She’s literally saved by the bell and scrambles to collect her things, hurrying to her next class. She doesn’t want to be late since she has Hak’s favorite teacher after all.

A smirk spreads on her face.

Ha. Favorite.

Winding through the hallways and into the classroom, she slumps down into her seat beside Yoon, giving him a quick greeting. They make small talk, Yoon ranting about how incompetent his guardian, Ik-soo, is at basic everyday tasks with a fond smile on his face.

All noise in the classroom ceases to exist the moment Mr. Soo-jin enters the classroom. Ah, yes, how Yona loves to have Precalculus with Mr. Soo-jin. The marker squeaks obnoxiously loud as he writes on the whiteboard, the only audible noise in the classroom. He writes up some equation and asks the class if anyone can solve it.

“If no one volunteers, I’ll just pick someone,” Yona feels her heartrate pick up pace, staring into her math book to avoid his gaze. It’s one thing to solve a difficult question, it’s another to solve in front of the entire class _and_ Mr. Soo-jin.

The silence is so eerie, that the drop of a pin would sound loud. From the corner of her eye, she sees Yoon tentatively raise his hand, sacrificing himself. Well, he’s doing it for the grade she supposes, but it’s still a sacrifice in her eyes.

Yoon walks up to the board, taking the marker from Mr. Soo-jin, starting to solve the problem. Yona struggles to follow, the squeaking of the marker distracting her thoughts. The sound sounds oddly familiar, almost like her mattress—

Yoon writes the answer, capping the pen before handing it back to the teacher. He hurries back to his seat as Mr. Soo-jin scrutinizes his answer. The teacher grunts an approval of Yoon’s answer before erasing it and writing the exercises to be completed during the lesson. A grunt is the closest thing the old man would give as praise, so she turns to Yoon and gives him a smile and a thumbs up.

He returns the gesture as Mr. Soo-jin sighs, “If you don’t finish all of the problems, then it’s homework. I have an important meeting, so I’ll come back before the lesson ends to answer any of your questions. In the meantime, Yoon will answer them for you.”

He promptly leaves the classroom, but not before giving the class a death stare, silently letting them know that he will have their heads if they don’t work during the lesson. What kind of teacher has a meeting at the same time as a lesson? Well, he did say it was important…

Yona sighs, opening her math book to the first page written on the whiteboard. At least she isn’t as lost in her Precalc class as her Philosophy one. She easily solves the first few questions and her mind begins to wander. It seems it’s all it can do these days, wandering off to some nice place where fantasies and what-if scenarios are materialized.

Embarrassingly often, they star Hak, but she’s rather used to it by now. Yes, it’s been like a week since she started this thing—that’s how much she’s been lost in thought. It makes sense after all, that they star him, since he’s her only experience. Though more often than not, her thoughts turn sappy and romantic—which per say isn’t bad, but it feels wrong when it’s Hak. Or, it _doesn’t_ feel wrong, but it should. Which in turn makes her feel bad for _not_ feeling bad and it just turns into a whole fucking mess.

But Yona is a romantic at heart, so that’s where her thoughts end up, no matter how hard she tries to rebel against them. Ever since she initially told Lily, their conversation has been stuck in her head, ringing over and over in her ears on a continuous loop.

_‘So, was he a good kisser?’_

_‘…we didn’t kiss.’_

_‘Why not?’_

No amount of slapping to her cheeks is enough to stop her compulsive, intrusive thoughts. She excuses herself to the restroom and Yoon just waves his hand at her without looking up, as he seems busy with a particularly difficult question.

She speeds down the corridor to the restrooms, locking herself in one of the stalls. Now that she’s in here, she realizes that the restroom wasn’t a good idea. Whatever restraint she had before is now gone and the thoughts, dreams—dare she say— _hopes,_ come flooding back, crashing over her like a goddamn tsunami.

Chuckling at herself, thinking, yeah Lily. Good question. She doesn’t know the answer to it, but she can guess. The simple and most reasonable answer is that Hak didn’t want to—but that answer makes her chest sting, makes it feel like he’s cutting her heart with a serrated knife.

It’s disgusting how disappointed she is, that even during their second time he didn’t make any move to kiss her. Why should he have anyway? What would he gain? Nothing. Just more trouble with an annoying, childhood friend. She huffs, knowing that he doesn’t think as poorly of her as he says. She knows that and yet—she can’t help but feel there’s some truth to his words.

Maybe she should ask him to kiss her? No, that would be the same thing as last time; he would feel pressured into it. Hmm… She almost considers googling _“how to ask a guy why he didn’t kiss you while you had sex”_ but decides not to since she doesn’t want to risk that mortifying search somehow being linked back to her. Yes, she knows of incognito tabs, but she also knows of IP-addresses and how they can be traced. (Checkmate FBI.)

Her leg bounces up and down as she rifles though her brain, trying to find a solution to her first world problem. How to approach the subject… how did she go about it last time?

Right, she out right asked him what sex was like. She cringes at herself from a mere week ago, rubbing her face in her hands and groans. Though, as cringy as it was, _that_ wasn’t the part that went completely, morally wrong. The part that was outrageously morally incorrect, was out right asking (well, guilt tripping) him to _actually_ have sex with her—and _god,_ that was cringy.

Snapping her head up from her crouched position on the toilet seat, she wonders why the fuck she’s upset he didn’t kiss her. Why does she want to kiss Hak? In the past, that thought alone would have been enough to make her barf. But now, she’s lamenting—in an admittedly gross restroom stall—that he didn’t? She groans even louder than before, stomping her feet on the floor tiles in frustration.

Wait—maybe it’s for the same reason as why she decided he should “take her virginity,” for lack of a better word. Yes, that must be it. She wants to kiss him since he’s safe and secure, and— _and practice_ for when she finally has a romantic relationship. Well, it’s not like Hak would ever be interested in her that way and she doesn’t care that he doesn’t. The stinging she feels in her chest is a mere coincidence.

Her mind is as calm as it’s going to get, so she heaves herself off the toilet seat and exits the stall. Walking over to the sinks, she splashes some cold water on her face and sighs, before steeling herself to walk back to class. She’s almost made it back to her classroom when something, in the corner of her eye, catches her attention.

Far down one of the corridors, she spots two students standing close to each other, closer than normal. Upon further staring, she realizes that the taller of the two is pressing the other up the wall, doing that _thing_ that she desperately tried to forget how badly she wanted Hak to do to her.

The sight engraves itself on her retinas, her brain quickly replacing it with her and Hak. All of her senses join in, fabricating her fantasy. Her nose smells his cologne. Fingers thread through his silky hair. The feeling of his arms caging her in. His leg between hers, leaving no space without friction. Her ears hear his deep voice whisper her name between frantic pressings of lips. Her tongue tastes his mouth. A light moan of his name escapes her. Her cheeks burns from arousal and—

Her mind snaps back to reality; her face is flushed red, the color more from the vivid fantasy than the accidental sight. Wow, her mind just made up a lot of things she doesn’t even know, like the feel of his lips on hers or the taste of them. Yikes.

She wonders if she should go back to the restroom to cool herself off, though she figures that there’s no point in going back to the restroom, since it would probably make things worse by allowing herself to indulge in her daytime fantasies.

She slaps her cheeks and shakes her head, trying to physically remove her inappropriate thoughts as she walks back into the classroom.

This is going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

The end of the week comes and goes, as well as the next week with her barely seeing him. Ever since she last saw him, something inside her makes her itch as if she’s an addict without her fix. This itch progressively keeps getting worse and worse, until it finally consumes her. This day, Friday, is particularly bad.

Her last lesson ends without the _slightest_ glimpse of Hak all day. He didn’t show up to lunch like he usually does, but she doesn’t think he’s sick. She’s packing up her things, ready to leave school and head home, when a couple cheerleaders walk by, squealing about, well, something. Her eyes follow them until they round the corner, probably heading to the gym hall.

It wouldn’t hurt to go check if he’s there, right? Otherwise she can just say hello to her other friends on the basketball team. Her theory is that just seeing him will be enough to sooth the itch; he’s the After Bite to her mosquito assaulted skin. [ **2**]

Closing her locker and swinging her bag over her shoulder, she heads down the same corridor as the cheerleaders, the same one that leads to the gym hall. Pushing the heavy door open, she finds herself between the bleachers. She shields her eyes from the bright lights that blind her with the sudden change in exposure. Why the gym hall needs such bright lights, she’ll never know.

When her eyes finally have adjusted to the light, she spots Jae-ha running and jumping to dunk the ball in the hoop, moving so fast he looks like he’s flying. She makes her way up the bleachers, opting for a spot high up in one of the corners, where the lights aren’t as blinding. Stretching her legs out, she exhales deeply as she surveys the court. 

They seem to be having a practice match on the court while the cheerleaders practice near her spot on the bleachers. Their proximity makes her involuntarily overhear their gossip during their water break. She tries to tune it out, which is rather easy due to the game going on.

Her eyes watch Shin-ah, following his swift movements. His golden eyes turn—almost as if he’s got a built-in chip notifying him of her location—meeting hers. He nods in her direction with a small smile, and taps Kija on the shoulder as he passes him, nodding again towards her.

His silver hair sparkles as he whips his head around to spot her. A wide smile breaks out on his face as he waves his hand over his head in a large motion. Yona giggles and waves back, thinking about how Hak described him as an excited puppy. It _totally_ fits him.

The sound of a surprised yelp is all anyone can hear as the ball is stolen by none other than Hak himself. She can’t make out what he says to Kija as Kija chases him, but she can imagine by the sinister grin on his face and loud laughter. Hak dodges Kija’s swatting hand and shoots at the basket: scoring. Hak continues to tease Kija, and Kija’s face grows to a deeper red from more than just exertion. Kija waves his hands widely in frustration and points to her up on the bleachers.

All of a sudden, Hak’s eyes are on hers. The chill she feels down her spine from the intensity of his gaze is a (yet another) weird coincidence. She moves her hand to wave, but the moment is broken by the shrill of a whistle being blown.

Embarrassed, she jerks her hand back, boring her gaze into the steps of the bleachers instead. The sudden change in noise makes the whispers of gossip seem even louder and more difficult to tune out than before.

“Did you see that shot?”

“Yeah, he’s _so_ cool,” a blonde girl rests her chin in her hand, looking out across the court. Something sour—probably bile—rises in Yona’s throat, which she chooses to ignore. After all, she feels it all the time whenever anyone mentions Hak; she’s used to it by now.

“But Kija was going to shoot—if Shin-ah hadn’t distracted him, he would’ve made it!” Another girl declares with passion. That sourness in her throat grows at the insinuation that it was somehow Shin-ah’s fault Kija lost the ball. If it was anyone’s fault, it would have to Yona’s.

“Excuse me, but it was all fair game,” the cheer captain declares with a professional smile plastered on her face as she butts into the conversation, making the rest snap their mouths shut. Clapping her hands, she tells them that they should take the opportunity of the empty court to run through their routine.

Yona secretly wants to be a part of the cheer squad, but never dared to try out and now feels like it’s too late. Besides, she doesn’t have any friends on the squad and she isn’t exactly the most socially capable person. Besides, her workload from school is just going to keep on growing as she becomes a junior, and then senior—she wouldn’t have any time to relax between school and practice. 

She watches with envy as they start the routine, chanting the name of the school’s basketball team. Propping her elbows on her knees, she rests her head in her hands and huffs as she longs to be a flyer. Not like she’d ever get to be one. She’s probably too fat for that, even if she’s healthy weight. But then again, she’s sure Hak has called her fat before, so…

A buzz from her phone startles her out of her dreams of being thrown in the air, nearly dropping it on the floor. As if she could get any more surprised, the sender is not one she expected to receive a text from.

Soo-won.

She has to do a double and even a triple take, reading the text a couple times just to understand that he’s texted her, and then rereading _another_ few times to comprehend what it entails.

` _> Hi Yona!  
Long time no see ^^  
> I was wondering if you’d like meet up next week?  
> It’s been so long since I last saw you——just thought it would be nice to catch up!_ `

Huh. The fact that he wrote her name, and not princess, feels odd, but it also makes sense. They’ve barely seen each other for a couple of years, so he’s probably not as comfortable using that childhood nickname (unlike Hak). Soo-won doesn’t know how she feels about the nickname, so he probably doesn’t want to accidentally make things awkward between them.

But the fact that he took his time to write to her _and_ ask to meet her? Almost sounds too good to be true.

“You look like you just received a death sentence,” Hak’s voice cuts through her thoughts, making her look up and meet his eyes. She must’ve been so busy trying to scrutinize the text that she didn’t notice that he’d snuck up on her. He climbs the last rows of the bleachers, sitting down next to her.

“—huh? What? I do not!” she yelps, and then in a smaller voice, “Do I?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her, “well, I don’t know, since you always look like this.”

His words feel like a blow to her gut, making her almost wince in pain—that’s how bad it hurts.

The flash of hurt that flares through her must be visible since he quickly adds, “Sorry Princess. That was a bad joke.” His eyes shimmer—not with tears, but with emotion that she cannot place quite place—in a way reminiscent of glass, vulnerable and beautiful: genuine.

“It’s okay…” she trails off, not sure what to say. Tell him that he’s free to express his opinion, even if it hurts? As much as she loves his honesty, some things are better left unsaid. From the corner of her eye, she sees him scrub at his face with his palms before running his hand through his hair. The awkward tension in the air is so thick that she could probably cut it in two, if she only figured out how.

She settles for whispering into the palms of her hands, “Maybe if I wasn’t so damn insecure about my appearance, I could just laugh it off like usual. Sorry for being such a party pooper.” She kind of hopes he won’t hear her, yet she also kind of hopes he does—otherwise she wouldn’t have said anything. Yona tacks on a halfhearted chuckle, but it just falls flat.

Looking up at the sound of his low voice, she meets his eyes, “Don’t apologize Princess. I was insensitive,” his voice is gentle, soft and small, just like his smile. Hak breaks eye contact to look out at the court, “Besides, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

She has no idea what he means by that, but he’s referring to her comment about her appearance, right? She doesn’t get long at all to dwell on it, as he returns his eyes to hers. Her breath hitches ever so slightly as warmth builds inside her, starting from the tips of her toes and fingers, racing through her as if her veins have been replaced by autobahns. [ **3**]

His smile is relaxed and soft: rare, as if it’s a secret that only she gets to see. It’s magnetizing and draws her in, making it impossible to look away. Maybe Hak is a siren in disguise, luring her in, just for fun. But then again, he’s not all that flirty, besides the occasional joke here and there, though their quite rare these days. No, he’s quite the opposite of flirty, yet that might be part of his ploy. Reverse psychology.

Ugh, she blames her weird thoughts on him: how he’s affecting her and disallowing her to think of anything but his lips. Biting down on her own lower lip, she tries to ground herself. Her lips move on their own accord, spilling the words from her mouth, “Um… Hak, why—” _—didn’t you kiss me?_

“—Hak!”

Her mortifying question gets cut off by (none other than) the cheer captain calling his name, catching both her and Hak’s attention. Her cheeks burn as she watches the pretty, dark haired girl wave at him, which he returns. Yona doesn’t know her name, but she’s everything she dreamed to be. She’s tall and beautiful with green eyes and pin-straight, long, dark brown hair. _God,_ she wishes she had straight hair.

The girl’s chest must be at least three times as large as hers—probably even larger, since Yona’s is somewhat embarrassingly small. Most of the time she doesn’t mind her small bust, but there are times when she wishes it were just a _smidge_ larger. Like now, where her chest, juxtaposed to the cheer captain’s, is more like a pre-pubescent boy’s rather than a 16 year old girl’s.

What Yona is most envious about though, is her popularity and social skills. Something that’s pretty much required for being cheer captain. From what she’s gathered, this girl doesn’t seem to be like a stereotypical cheerleader, which makes it harder for her to dislike her. Why should she dislike her though? She would make a great friend—not that someone like Yona would ever possibly be worth anything to a girl like that.

“Could I talk to you for a minute? When you’re done, of course!” She cups the side of her mouth with her hand, speaking in a loud, yet not overbearingly loud, voice. Hak raises his hand, giving her a thumbs up and nods his head. The girl returns the gesture and resumes talking to another cheerleader.

Hak slowly turns his head to glance at Yona from the corner of his eye, “So… What were you going to say?”

She blinks her eyes rapidly, feeling her face blush bright red. _Shit_ , did she almost just ask him _that?_ She’s never been more relieved to be interrupted in her entire life. Waving her hands in front of herself, she squeaks, “Oh, um—it was nothing!”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push. Thank god for that. Instead, he asks, “Well, what are you doing here? You usually don’t come to practice, let alone on Fridays.”

Well, shit.

“Um, I…” she looks down at her hands, picking at her nails as she contemplates what to say. He’s right though. She hardly ever comes to watch their practice anymore and probably never has watched them on a Friday. Fridays are special since it’s like the mini-weekend before the weekend, or something like that.

She usually spends Friday evenings with her dad when he gets home from work, but today he’s coming home so late that he’ll be missing dinner. But she knows that her dad has nothing to do with why she’s here.

Is it okay if she actually tells him the real reason? Would he tease her then? Make fun of her? Or would he have a soft smile on his face and tell her he missed her too?

“Princess? Are you alright?” He leans toward her, resting his hand next to her thigh on the bench. She catches herself wanting to smooth the crease between his furrowed brows with her fingers, removing the concerned look on his face. She doesn’t, but her fingers almost moved on their own.

“Yeah, sorry,” she chuckles lightly, scratching the side of her face, “I guess I just don’t want to go home yet…” Hak leans back and hums, though his hand remains near her thigh. That itching inside her flares up again, itching to touch his hand—itching to just touch him, really.

He looks back out at the court again as he speaks, “well, coach is in a good mood today, so I think he’ll let us go early. He’ll claim that it’s because it’s Friday, but really, it’s because he misses his wife.” Yona doesn’t really know where Hak is going with this, so she just makes a similar humming noise as he did earlier.

“So, we’ll probably finish up soon,” he smirks, redirecting his eyes that twinkle with mischief to hers, “Afterwards, you could come home with me and we can watch that movie we never watched at your place last week.” He tries to keep a poker face, though it swiftly crumbles. The teeth digging into his lip are not strong enough to contain his laughter, letting small noises of mirth spill from his mouth.

Even though she should feel embarrassed by her actions—her _booty call_ —and the fact that he’s teasing her about it, she can’t help but giggle with him, “Sure, that sounds nice.”

He slaps his hands on his thighs, “Great. Well, I better get going then.” Standing up, he smiles at her.

Yona nods, “Yeah. You don’t want to keep that cheerleader waiting any longer.” She herself doesn’t even know what she means by that or why she even said that.

“Eh, it’s alright. Ayame will survive,” he chuckles, the cheerleader’s name slipping off his tongue. _Ayame._ A pretty name for a pretty girl, she supposes. “Unlike you,” he adds, ruffling her hair before escaping out of her reach.

“Hak!” Yona squeals, attempting to smooth her hair down from the mess he made. Whenever she thinks that maybe Hak isn’t all too bad, then he has to do something like _this_ again. Though, she would never admit it aloud, it’s kind of fun—but mostly irritating.

Hak is irritating. Even his laughter as he runs away is irritating. It irritates her heart, making it leap in weird ways—maybe something’s wrong with her heart. Just watching him talk to the cheer captain— _Ayame—_ makes it twitch and squeeze uncomfortably. Absentmindedly she rubs her chest, trying to minimize the prickliness, but her efforts are futile.

She honestly thinks her heart is going to leap out of her chest when she overhears some of the gossiping cheerleaders again, “ahhh, don’t you think Hak and captain would make such a good couple?”

“Ugh, it’s painful to watch. They should just _get it on_ already. It’s _so_ obvious they like each other—and they would be _perfect_ together,” one of the cheerleaders sighs, resting her head in her hand. Yona lets her gaze land on Hak and Ayame, watching as Ayame touches his arm.

“Yeah… I ship them so hard,” the other girl mimics her friend, sighing dramatically. Yona feels nauseous and she doesn’t know why. Why is it upsetting to see Hak with another girl? She thought she was the only girl close to Hak, thought she knew Hak. But that Hak over there is unknown to her. She knows _of_ this Hak, but she doesn’t actually _know_ him.

Sometimes she forgets just how popular and sociable— _well liked_ —he is. But life finds a way, a way to bring her back down to earth. With a high five to the face, with a chair. Yes, you will have to pry the dead memes out of her equally dead hands. [ **4**]

Shit. Amidst her internal crisis, she’s been staring at them. Hak meets her eyes. Before she can look away, he waves to her. Awkwardly, she waves back. All of a sudden, Ayame is waving at her too, with a bright smile on her face. Yona wonders if her smile is genuine or if it’s a fake smile to show her how pretty she is. 

Luckily, the moment is broken by Coach Geun-tae blowing the whistle, grabbing everyone’s attention. The loud sound startles her a little, disorienting her. What was she even doing? With a start, Yona remembers the text from Soo-won. Right. Why is she so concerned with Hak’s love life when she should be focusing on her own? Her curls bounce wildly as she shakes her head to clear it, redirecting her focus to Soo-won.

Uh, what should she even say? _Hi! I miss you too!_ No, he didn’t say that he missed her; he just said that it was a long time since they last met up. She ends up settling for something that might be a little too desperate or over the top, but whatever. It’ll have to do.

` _> Hi!  
> I agree, it’s been too long since we last met ^^  
> I don’t really have any plans next week, so whenever works for me!_ `

She hits send before she can change her mind. She must’ve spent too long working on that response as she sees the guys packing up their things. Gathering up her own things, she hurries down the bleachers. When she’s on the last step, she manages to trip on something and fall forward into something hard, yet nowhere near as hard as she expected the floor to feel.

“Princess, you’ve gotta stop falling for me,” Hak sniggers, making her roll her eyes from the terribly bad pun. At least she’s grateful he caught her and didn’t let her face-plant into the hardwood flooring. Steadying herself, she puts distance between them, despite how natural it feels to have his hands on her waist. She doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea—herself included.

“This is the first time I’ve tripped and you’ve caught me since we were little,” she mutters as she crosses her arms, childhood memories coming to mind. Alongside them, memories that are more recent remind her of how he previously let Jae-ha fall flat on his face.

She wasn’t there when it happened, but she knew something good must’ve happened when Hak was so suspiciously happy and smiley that she ended up asking him if that was the case. He, _of course_ , denied anything in particular happened, but in the end, Yoon ratted him out. She almost finds herself laughing at the memory. 

“Shh, don’t sweat the details, Princess,” he chuckles with his signature smile, while reaching to ruffle her hair again. Dodging, she manages to avoid him from (further) ruining her curls.

Glaring at him, she yelps his name, “Hak! Stop ruining my hair!” He feigns ignorance, blinking his pretty eyes at her. Yona can’t help but roll her own again and huff loudly, though a fond smile tugs at her lips. Ugh, even her own body betrays her.

They separate: Hak to the locker rooms and Yona waiting outside.

She doesn’t have to wait for long before he’s done. Well, they call him Thunder Beast for a reason. Well, maybe not ‘cause he’s in and out of the changing rooms within a couple minutes, but that definitively helps add to his reputation.

He looks the same as always: snug t-shirt, black skinny jeans and his varsity jacket. If Hak didn’t have his jacket (nor muscular build), he wouldn’t look anything near a typical jock—he’s too punk-y or whatever. But then again, Hak isn’t like the typical jock, nor is the rest of her friends on the basketball team. The only difference in his appearance between now and last week is that his hair isn’t sopping wet. The wet hair was a good look on him, though wet hair is a hassle and she likes his dry hair.

They head for the main exit of the school, the gentle breeze blowing her hair away her face as they step outside. The temperature is beginning to drop and the days getting shorter as the year nears its final months. It’s not too cold, but if the wind picks up pace it’ll rather chilly.

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you something,” Hak stops walking as he speaks, making her turn around from where she continued walking without him. A gust of wind blows her hair into her face as she gives him an inquisitive stare. Instead of orally replying, he fishes a pair of keys out of his pocket.

“Wait, you have a car now? Since when?” She steps closer to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. Nope, those are definitely car keys.

“Since yesterday. Gramps just handed me the keys yesterday after dinner,” she follows him towards the parking lot, allowing him to lead the way. “’said one of his pals had an old truck that he wasn’t using and Gramps jumped at the opportunity.”

The wind seems to be getting stronger and blows harshly from behind her. Attempting to keep her hair out of her face, she tucks it behind her ear. She’s grateful that they don’t have to walk home in this weather—she should’ve brought a scarf. Hak stops next to a truck that definitely has seen better days.

“It’s nothing much, but it does the job,” he pats the roof of the vehicle, giving her a small smile. Smiling back, she walks around to the passenger side and opens the door. Even if the truck’s burgundy paint is chipped and its seats worn down, it has a special charm to it.

Placing her bag on the floor, she climbs into the truck and plops down on the seat, finding it surprisingly comfortable. The seat’s outer material is worn down, but the cushion itself is nice and soft. The seat’s shape is a long rectangular one, reaching from the passenger’s side of the vehicle to the drivers. It’s rare these days with seats like these, probably since they were deemed less safe. Either way, she loves it. Since she’s so short, she could probably lie down and fit her entire body across it, or well, mostly.

Hak closes the driver’s side door behind him as he gets in, “Gramps said the truck is mine on two conditions: one, that I keep my grades up and two, am his and Tae-yeon’s chauffeur.”

Giggling behind her hand, she imagines Mundok handing Hak the car keys, only to make him his personal chauffeur. She straps on her seatbelt, as he inserts the key and turns the ignition. It takes a short while for the engine to start, so she takes the time to inspect the rest of the vehicle.

The sound system seems to use old cassette tapes, but also includes a radio. She’s never been one to listen much to the radio, but she’s never been one to listen to music much with other people anyway.

When she’s alone (and she’s sure she’s alone), she likes to sing along to her favorite songs, even if she sounds like a dying cat. Especially if she tries to sing like one of her favorite singers, as her vocal range is nowhere near his. [ **5**]

She wonders what Hak’s singing voice is like. She hasn’t heard him singing since before his voice dropped during puberty and even then, she barely heard him sing. Maybe he can secretly sing well, or maybe he’s just as bad as her.

Hak releases the handbrake, squeaking as it moves. The engine hums as he backs out the parking space, though the sound and vibration feels comforting.

“I like this truck—it’s cool,” she rests her cheek in her palm, propping her elbow against the car door and watches him.

His eyes flicker to hers from the road for a split second, “Yeah? I think so too.”

She’s done checking out the truck, finding him to be more visually appealing. Even if she’s embarrassed to be blatantly staring at him like she’s doing now, she can’t help it. She’s been starting to notice little details about him that she’s never seen before, never bothered—never even _cared_ —to see before. But now, she can’t unsee them.

Like the small spot in his left iris, that is a slightly different hue of blue than the rest.

The way his hair lays on his nape, swirling towards the middle.

How his eyelashes are near straight, and how he has fewer lashes on his lower lash lines than his upper ones.

How his black hair takes on a navy hue as it shimmers in the sunlight.

The way his cheek dimples as he suppresses a smile.

All of it, equally interesting as the next. It’s impossible to look away and she doesn’t know why. He can probably feel her gaze on him, feel how she watches him as if she’s bird watching, or something. No, it’s more like a predator watching its prey.

He glances over at her, briefly meeting her eyes. His cheek dimples in that way that she now knows what it means. Through observing him, she’s finally started to pick a part his behavior and see what’s beneath the surface. After all this time, she’s starting to learn how to read him. She still has a long way to go, but she’s making progress.

The ride home is mostly silent, though it’s a comfortable silence. Their short drive is almost over when he breaks the quietude, asking her what movie she wants to watch. Her mind is blank, not even sure what genre she wants to watch.

Well, she’s always up for romantic movies, but she doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to watch a movie which’s plot is focused on romance with him. Drama is also not a good idea; she doesn’t need him to see her cry more than he already does. Romcoms, or just comedies in general, usually have that cheesy secondhand embarrassment that she really doesn’t need right now.

Whelp, there goes like every single movie she has seen or wants to see. No Nicholas Sparks movie adaptations (yes, she loves the Notebook—don’t judge her), no Jane Austen movie adaptations (ah, Pride and Prejudice must be one of her all time favs), no Sandra Bullock movies like Miss Congeniality or The Proposal or—wait, there’s a movie that could work. The movie is still romantic, but the plot isn’t focused on it, nor does it give secondhand embarrassment.

“Speed?” She phrases it like a question, feeling unsure of her choice. [ **6**]

“The movie from the 90’s? The one with Keanu Reeves?” He pulls into the driveway of the house, killing the engine and pulls up the handbrake.

“Yeah—have you seen it?” She chews her lip in a nervous gesture, yet she doesn’t know why she’s getting so anxious around him all the time. It’s just Hak. It’s not like they haven’t watched a movie together before, let alone be together in one of their rooms. Though last time they were… that shouldn’t matter!

“Hmm, maybe. If I have, then it was a long time ago. I’ve been meaning to watch it, so that’ll be perfect, I think,” he smiles at her before getting out of the truck. Taking a quick moment to inhale and exhale deeply, she shakes her head side to side before slapping her cheeks to ground herself—remind herself why she’s here.

They’re friends. They have been since they were little, so this is nothing new. She follows suit before Hak starts to get suspicious. The last thing she needs, right now, is him teasing her. Grabbing her bag off the floor, she gets out of the car.

She stays a couple steps behind him as they walk to the front door, waiting as he unlocks it. He opens the door, flicking on the hallway lights.

Shoving his shoes under the shoe rack, “you can head to my room and I’ll fix some snacks.” He heads off to kitchen as she hangs her coat and toes of her sneakers in a more orderly fashion. Treading down the hallway, a hallway that she’s walked down so many times before, she remembers when she was here last.

Opening the door to his room is like opening a floodgate of memories and feelings that she’s been so desperately trying to contain. She proceeds to step into the room, walking as if the floor is a minefield ready to blow. Setting down her bag next to the foot of the bed, she scans the room to see if there’s anything off or different about it.

There isn’t. The room looks the same as it always does. Hastily made bed and the kotatsu littered with TV remotes, game controllers and random papers strewn about. Part of her is relieved and a selfish part of her isn’t. She decides not to dwell on it, but in order to do that she can’t stay in this room.

Making her way to the kitchen, she finds him starting the microwave to pop popcorn. She doesn’t mean to sneak up on him—and even if she did, she’d doubt she could sneak up on him since he’s got crazy good perception—but somehow she finds herself unintentionally doing just so.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she impulsively hugs him from behind. Luckily, he doesn’t jump or hit her by accident, but she feels the jolt that pulses through him as his muscles tense.

“—Princess! Holy fuck, you scared me,” his voice is breathy as he turns his torso in her hold, eyes meeting hers. Realizing she just gave into her desire to be close to him, she releases her hold on him in a panic.

To cover up her tracks, she giggles, “I never thought I’d live to see the day I manage to scare you, let alone accidentally.” Well, maybe not the best cover up, but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t seem to question it, as he visibly relaxes. 

His eyes light up as he chuckles, “you know, I can’t let you get away with that.”

Blinking her eyes at him, she worries if her cover up wasn’t good enough after all. But she sort of knows how to read him now and the look in his eyes tells her he means revenge.

Her eyes widen with the realization, whispering under her breath, “oh no.”

His smile— _grin—_ only turns more sinister as he laughs, “Oh yes, Princess. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to do it when you least expect it. It’s only fair.” He raises his eyebrow to continue to taunt her.

Fine. Tit for tat.

She crosses her arms and raises her own brow, “You’ve only got yourself to blame. I didn’t sneak up on you—you just weren’t paying attention.” Maybe she went too far as his grin falters a bit, through it comes back stronger than before.

“Oh, is that so,” he leans over her, using his height to try and intimidate her. Well, it doesn’t work. All it does is make her want to wrap her arms around his neck and press her lips against his. If she did, she probably would surprise him again, though that’s not the same as sneaking up on him. And she doesn’t want to go about it like that. She has a plan and she’s sticking to it. Huffing, she rolls her eyes at him as she plans her next move.

Her grin matches his as she cocks her hip to the side and tosses her hair over her shoulder, “Yeah,” staring him dead in the eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re too distracted again that you’ll burn the popcorn.”

Leaning back, his eyelashes flutter from the rapid speed of him blinking his eyes, gaze flitting from hers to the microwave and then back.

“They don’t seem burned,” his smile is more relaxed and lopsided now, dropping the charade.

“Yet,” even if he stopped horsing around, she can’t stop. She gets it now why he teases her so much. It’s fun. Especially when you win. She giggles from the mock offended look on his face and her cheeks hurt from the width of her smile. Well, her cool façade breaks, but she’s still teasing.

“Watch it, Princess. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” The microwave beeps and he takes out the popcorn, pouring them into a bowl. They’re perfect, not even a slight bit burned. Damn it. He raises his brow at her, daring her to continue.

As her reply, she snatches the bowl from him, dashing out of the kitchen and runs into his room. She expects him to come chasing after her, but he doesn’t. Oh well. Setting the bowl down on the table top of the kotatsu, she plugs in the heater to turn on the kotatsu.

As she waits, she starts munching on some of the popcorn. The kotatsu warms her up, almost a little too much. Her neck is getting a little sweaty, so she ties up her hair into a high pony. Even in the high placement on the crown of her head, her hair still touches her nape, though not as much as before. She really should get it cut. Her ends aren’t looking too great and could use a trim.

Putting her hair up reminds her of when she put it up last week on Thursday. After that whole ordeal with Lily, she was determined to give him a piece of her mind at the soonest possible moment, but she doesn’t want to ruin the atmosphere they’ve got going. Besides, even if the mark was risky (her dad could’ve seen it)—she liked it.

Ugh, she’s so sappy and cliché, but she’s long passed that. She likes being marked. She wants to be marked, claimed, _owned_. And not in a kinky way, but in a soft, romantic, _loving_ way. Sighing, she shoves her feelings down with popcorn.

Hak showing up to her shoving popcorn in her mouth however, isn’t the most ideal way for him to find her, but hey, it is what it is.

“Hey, don’t finish the popcorn before the movie even starts,” his telltale smirk is painted on his face as he sets down two coke cans next to the popcorn bowl. After turning on the TV, he walks around the table, reaching under his bed to grab his laptop and connects it to the TV with an HDMI-cable.

She watches him do what she’s seen him do many times before: start VPN service, search for the movie on a streaming client and look for the video source on the page to maximize the broadband connection for the video (and not have ads stealing their precious connection). Sometimes it takes a longer while; other times it goes surprisingly fast, like today. Luck must be on their side.

Grabbing two pillows from his bed, he props one up against his bedframe next to her and offers the other to her. Sitting at a kotatsu is nice and all, but having to rest your back against a wooden bedframe isn’t too comfortable and lying across the tabletop is no better.

Hak sits down next to her as the opening credits of the movie plays. The credits of which are _so_ excruciatingly long, they consider getting up and skipping forward. Though as soon as the story starts: they’re hooked.

It’s been so long since she last watched it she forgot how much of a thriller it is. Also, she realizes how similar Hak and Jack look. Both have dark hair, a muscular build and a scary look (that’s really just a front).

When the bus blows up in the background seconds after Jack walks away, she instinctively hides her face behind her hands and lets out a cut off squeal. Hak glances at her from the corner of his eye, though she doesn’t know what the look means. Does he think she’s a scaredy-cat? Or is he sympathetic?

“Sorry, I forgot about how many bombs are in this movie and it just surprised me,” she mutters, taking a sip of her drink and pinning her gaze to the screen.

“Spoilers.”

She nearly chokes on her drink, “What? That’s not spoilers! Bombs are part of the premise of the movie!”

“Are they?”

Yona frowns, “Yes! Do you not know the premise?”

“Nope,” Hak makes sure to pop the ‘p’ as he gives her his curt, singular word response and leans back with his arms behind his head. 

Her frown deepens, “Then how did you know you wanted to watch to watch this movie, if you don’t know what it’s about?”

“I’ve heard it’s good—I don’t need to know _why_ it’s good beforehand. That’s what’s watching it is for,” he takes a couple sips from his can of coke, creating too much of a distraction, by the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, for her to think of a response.

Luckily he doesn’t expect one, as he continues, “I think you get a better experience from things going in blind. You don’t know what to expect, rather than being told what is going to happen.”

She opens her mouth to argue that trailers and synopses aren’t spoilers, but to be fair, he’s got a point. But a premise isn’t spoilers, is it?

“Fine, trailers are spoilers. But the premise? It just tells you how the plot starts,” she takes another gulp of her drink, emptying the can.

“Depends on what you consider spoiler,” he raises his brow at her, taunting her. Sometimes, he’s really frustrating. Like he just _wants_ to get on her nerves.

“Ugh, I do _not_ want to be having a philosophical discussion with you right now.”

Hak’s poker face breaks as he laughs, “Sorry, I was just fucking with you. _Of course,_ I know the premise. But I generally try to stay away from trailers since they include all the good parts—you’ve basically seen the entire movie by watching the trailer.”

Oh, so he _was_ being annoying for the sake of annoying her. That just makes him even more annoying. And to think she’s been _dying_ to kiss this guy—it’s unbelievable. She doesn’t reply, deciding to sulk instead.

“Princess, are you mad at me?”

Yona doesn’t turn to look at him, doesn’t even acknowledge his existence. He should know the answer to that question. He likes to play dumb sometimes, but she knows he’s not. And he’s definitely not lacking in the intuition department either.

Most people would probably apologize again when they’re being ignored, but then again Hak isn’t like most people.

“Mm, so you’re ignoring me. Mature Princess, very mature.” Ha, as if he’s any more mature than her. She thought he wanted her to forgive him or something—mocking her is making her even more irate.

But she knows that’s what he wants. He wants a reaction. He’s a bully, really. But one can only be a bully if there’s a victim. Today, she’s not going to be the victim, but she’s not going to be the bully either. No, she’s going to be mature.

“I’m not ignoring you,” she lies. Hey, acting mature and actually being mature are two different things. But fake it ‘til you make it, she supposes.

“Then what are you doing?”

Glancing at him, she recognizes the look on his face, a look that says he’s sure he’s got her cornered. Even if she’s cornered, she hasn’t lost quite yet.

She looks back at the screen, keeping her voice steady, “watching the movie. What are _you_ doing, Hak?” She struggles to keep her poker face, wishing she could see the look on his face at her rebuttal.

“Trying to get your forgiveness.”

Her ponytail whips violently behind her as she glares at him, “By mocking me?” Her voice goes up an octave as her impulses get the better of her, resulting in, her short lived, maturity act dissolving like mentos in a bottle of coke.

“Mm, is that not the way to do it?” he smirks, completely unfazed by her sudden change in attitude. Ugh, he’s having too much fun with this. He should consider himself lucky he’s known her for so long or she would’ve left already. If it weren’t for his damn smile, she would never in a million years have thought of him as anything but annoying.

“No.”

“Okay then…” his smirk fades as he leans towards her and—for a split second, she thinks he’s going to kiss her—rests his forehead on her shoulder, mumbling, “please tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness.”

Her body goes rigid and her face flushes bright red from mortification as she was conceited enough to think he would kiss her then. Anyway, uh, what should she say? Tell him to stop annoying her? No, she doesn’t want to hurt him. To kiss her? No, that would definitely be blackmail. Um, to hug—

“Princess?” he lifts his head off her shoulder when she _(apparently)_ takes too long to respond. He’s close, too close, and warm. She bets a hug from him would be nice and warm—

Yona gets the answer to her bet faster than she anticipated, letting out a squeak of surprise as the speakers blare from the bus running into an airplane and she instinctively clutches his arm. Hak is also startled, his eyes flickering between the screen and her.

“Um, I think I missed an important part of the movie…” he chuckles, rubbing his neck with his free arm while smiling at her.

“Probably since you weren’t paying attention—again,” she lets go of his arm, pretending like it never happened, but the warmth of his touch has stained her skin and the itching to touch him burns more and more violently in her heart.

“Your fault, Princess,” he murmurs, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She barely registers what he says, not bothering to reply to his empty teasing. (Either way, there’s no way it was her fault he wasn’t watching the movie—he was the one insisting on talking.) Instead, she wonders if this is the right time to ask him her question, if she should do it with the movie still playing, possibly filling any awkward silence that may follow.

Before she has the chance though, the final twist to the movie is revealed, leading the movie towards its end. The music makes her jump (jump scares suck, okay? cheap-ass movie technique…), grabbing his hand as a result. Once she realizes she’s grabbed him again, she retracts her touch and apologizes, “sorry.”

Hak slips his arm behind her, wrapping it around her back and pulls her into his side. The gesture is warm and fills her heart with its warmth. All this warmth is reflected in an equally warm, albeit small, smile on her face.

“Thank you,” she whispers, eyes trained on the screen. Hak doesn’t reply, but she knows he feels her sentiment since he starts to lightly rub soothing circles on her hip with his thumb. If Yona was smarter and scheming, she would’ve chosen this movie just as an excuse to make him hold her in his arms, but no. She didn’t think that far. But maybe Hak thinks she did?

Even if he did though, he wouldn’t have pulled her close, would he? Unless he didn’t care and wanted to be close to her too? Or perhaps, he just wanted to comfort her, as a friend—which he is. He’s her friend. Best friend, childhood friend, but nonetheless, still just a friend. Maybe he thought this would be a good way to make her forgive him, which it is. But she doesn’t want him to force himself to do things just to please her.

The movie reaches its real and final climax, featuring the protagonist, Jack, and the antagonist fighting atop a moving train. She remembers now how the fight ends, remembers how shocked she was when she watched it for the first time.

But she won’t look away this time, as she already has the knowledge of how it ends. _A posteriori,_ as it’s called in epistemology. Knowledge obtained after experience. Ugh, she told Hak not to talk philosophy and now her brain is doing it on its own.

“Brutal,” he whispers once the villain is gone. At the sound of his voice, she peeks up at him, watching the screen reflect in his eyes. Those eyes turn to hers, softening as they meet. All sounds, but the sounds of their breathing and their hearts beating, cease to exist for a moment.

Fuck, he’s so close to her; she could just straighten out her back and claim his lips right now, if she had the guts to. Or well, if she didn’t already have a plan she’s been forcing herself to stick to.

“Yeah,” she replies in a breathy voice. Hopefully, he won’t notice her weird voice, or at least not comment on it.

Tearing her eyes away from his, she returns to watch the end of the movie, trying to ignore how she felt chills down her spine from his gaze. On the screen, the two main characters tackle the final problem, and at last free the female protagonist from the hand cuffs.

And then—right, she forgot this was a romantic movie.

“Hey, Hak? What’s it like to kiss someone?”

The words she’s been running over and over in her head, since that time in the school restrooms, slip out of her mouth with such ease that she’s stunned at how normal she sounds. She turns her head to peer up at him, trying her best to keep her eyes of his lips. Emphasis on _tries_.

He blinks his annoyingly pretty eyes at her as if he doesn’t understand the question, before frowning.

“Princess… Have you never kissed anyone?”

She starts, “Um, I—”, cutting herself off to think through her answer. She was too busy worrying about actually asking him, to consider the possible outcomes as a result of her asking. Averting her eyes from his gaze, as she finds it suddenly too intense for her to bear.

Her hand trembles as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear before mumbling, “If I had, then you would’ve been the first to know…”

“I would’ve?” The crease between his brows deepens and he tilts his head to the side. Despite the frown on his face, the tilt is reminiscent of an adorable kitten tilting its head at weird sounds. That thought alone helps calm her nerves a bit, seeing that he’s more similar to a kitten than anything scary. Working up her courage, she redirects her eyes—from previously staring at the canyon he’s making between his brows—to his.

“Yeah,” her voice is breathy, strained from the chains she’s placed on her desires. She almost adds, _you’re my best friend,_ but she doesn’t. Even if it suits the question _‘if she’s ever kissed anyone,’_ it doesn’t suit how she’s physically aching to kiss _him_. Best friends don’t typically kiss. She knows that, yet she also knows they’re not regular best friends anymore. They crossed that line two weeks ago.

“You really like to do things backwards, huh.” His tense brows relax and the muscles in his cheeks contract, as his facial expression changes to one of mirth as he laughs, “Or, more like your own way.”

“Well, my way or the highway,” she mutters before she can even think it though. God, he makes her so impulsive. She doesn’t like being this rash—it’s dangerous. It’s especially hard to control her impulses when he rewards her with his choked off laughter. Laughter that brings tears to his eyes.

It sounds horrible, loud and unabashed, yet she can’t help but want to hear more. She’s greedy and wants to hear all the possible sounds he can make. Most of all, the sound of his voice: ragged, deep with lust, sighing her name.

His laughter dies out and he wipes at his eyes, eyes which still glisten from his tears. Those tears were happy tears, she knows that and yet, her chest squeezes painfully from the open and vulnerable look on his face. He looks at her as if she’s got his heart in her hands, as if she’s able to crush him in a single blow.

Meanwhile, she’s trying so hard to constrain her own heart from leaping out of her throat, to stop it from leaping into _his_ hands. Even though she’s pretty sure he’d take good care of it, it could be too much for him to bear. If her heart is agonizingly difficult for _herself_ to bear, how could someone else possibly have the strength to bear it?

She’s losing her strength, her resolve. It’s melting away like the polar ice caps due to climate change. Moving slowly, she leans closer to him, her eyes never straying anywhere but his eyes and lips. Her heart is beating annoyingly loud, blaring her desire aloud. Even if he can’t hear it, he must feel how it thrashes inside her, feel it from where her ribcage is touching his.

Hak doesn’t speak, nor move, as if he’s frozen on the spot. Maybe he doesn’t want her to kiss him. Maybe he’s panicking. But there’s a voice inside her head, telling her that he _does_ want her. Yona shifts her hip so she can reach his face, as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. His eyes leave hers to watch her mouth, before they jump back up again. That’s almost consent, right?

She leans closer to him, resting her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. Hopefully he can’t feel how she’s trembling, trembling both from nerves and anticipation. She’s still a tad too short, needing to push up on her knees, which makes her slightly taller than him. It’s not often she’s above him, but those few time that she is, it gives her a rush and a sense of power, a sense of domination. Not necessarily in a kinky way, but still in a sexy way.

Her fingertips ghost his cheek as she leans in almost all the way. His breath warms her already burning cheeks as she looks in his eyes one last time, giving him the chance to push her away.

She doesn’t wait too long before lightly brushing her lips on his. It could barely be considered a kiss, seeing as it was a brief, faint touch of lips. It doesn’t last long at all before she leans back, leaning back just enough to look him in his eyes. Attempting to decipher the shift in hue in his eyes, she tries her best to silently communicate with him while trying not to pass out from anxiety.

That communication lasts no more than a split second before his eyes flutter close, and they both meet in the middle. Oh, so this is what it’s like to kiss someone— _no,_ this is what it’s like to kiss Hak. Her fantasies pale in comparison, never capturing the pure rush of euphoria that pulses through her.

The kiss is slow and she feels completely out of her depth, solely relying on her minimal experience gained from romance novels and movies, except for sheer instincts. His lips are soft yet firm, malleable yet determined. His hand moves to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek. His other thumb strokes her hip from where his hand in steadying her. The touch is _so_ sweet she could cry—though that would totally ruin the moment.

Breaking the kiss, she twists her hip to sit on his thigh since it’s awkward to kiss him while balancing on her knees. She keeps her hands on his neck to keep herself steady, but also because she doesn’t want to let go of him—not now, and not anytime soon. 

Now that she finally know what his lips feel like on hers, she craves it—craves _him—even_ more. When he tucks a curly lock of hers behind her ear and smiles at her as if he thinks she hangs the moon and stars: she’s a mirror reflecting his bright smile. He’s too handsome for his own good.

His smile tastes like popcorn, and it almost makes her laugh to realize that. Of course it does, but knowing that she can actually taste the faint flavor of salt and butter on his lips, is something that will probably always make her head spin. She wants to experience him, not only with her lips.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she presses herself closer to him. His silky hair (that curls towards the center of his nape _so_ perfectly) between her fingers feels familiar in a foreign sense. She’s felt it before, but it’s different now. Now, when she can finally have him in a different and new way that she’s been yearning for.

Hak pulls her closer and properly into his lap, his fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt as it rides up. The slight touch of his hands on her skin is electrifying, making her long for more. She wants to tear his clothes off, have him touch her in ways he has before. She wants him on top of her, inside her—in every possible way.

But she also wants this new experience to take its time. They don’t have to rush—they have time, right? She may not always have his time, but for now, she has his undivided attention. And _god_ , if that doesn’t make her feel sexy, significant and special: she doesn’t know what does.

He leans down a little further, tilting his head. His chest is flush with hers, allowing her to feel his heart racing against hers. His hand, cupping her face, tilts her head further as he nips at her lips. The sensation is a little odd, yet it feels nice nonetheless.

Since she doesn’t know basically anything about kissing, she doesn’t have any credibility to decide whether he’s a good kisser or not, but at least she’s sure he’s not a bad kisser. That of course doesn’t necessarily make him a good one, but he’s definitely good enough for her—he’s more than just good enough. 

The nipping turns into light sucking on her lower lip, making her gasp from a more intense tug of her lip. Her jaw now relaxed and mouth slightly agape, gives him access to the inside of her mouth. Before she has time close her mouth, a reason for keeping it open becomes apparent, by his tongue brushing hers.

It really shouldn’t feel that good to have your tongue touch someone else’s, but it does. Especially when that someone is someone you’ve been dreaming about every single night for the past two weeks—someone that she really shouldn’t be lusting after; he’s her childhood friend.

But then again, so is Soo-won. Ugh, she does not want to be thinking about Soo-won right now. Her thoughts and senses are filled with Hak and only Hak.

A light moan is swallowed by him, though her sound doesn’t go unnoticed, if the smile he kisses her with is anything to go by. The competitive, teasing part of her, treads forward, needing to get her revenge for him smiling at her moan.

He’s made her this way: it’s only fair he takes responsibility. Oh god, that sounds so non-consensual, but that’s not her intention. He needs to take responsibility for her teasing, revengeful side—not for making her want him in every way possible. That part’s on her.

Dragging her nails across his scalp, the motion elicits the moan she wanted to hear. She giggles into the kiss, satisfied with her sweet, _sweet_ revenge as she feels his voice resonate from inside his chest.

The only downside to kissing him is that she doesn’t get to see him at the same time. She knows she can’t kiss him with her eyes open, and quite frankly, that would be weird (and creep him the fuck out), plus she wouldn’t be able to see him then anyway since her face is too close to his.

To make up for her inability to feast her eyes on him, she holds his face gently in her hands. Tucking his hair behind his ears, she pushes his hair away from his face. She maps out the contours of his face with her fingers, committing it to memory. If she were a sculptor, she would probably be better at remembering the ups and downs of his face, but it’s the thought that counts. After all, it’s her memory and hers alone. 

The kisses turn more heated, her breathing coming in faster. Her hands roam to his chest, feeling the shallow breaths he takes. She also feels the moment his breathing suddenly stops as he pulls back from the kiss.

“Hak? What—”

“Shh,” he hushes, pressing a quick peck to her lips to shut her up, before pinning his steel gaze somewhere behind her. Yona is a confused and _horribly_ aroused mess, blinking her eyes at him as her clouded mind struggles to understand what is going on. But she doesn’t dare ask, not when he’s already hushed her.

She tries to keep the volume of her panting to a minimum not to disturb whatever he seems to be listening to. Then, she hears movement from out in the hallway. Oh shit, either Tae-yeon or Mundok is home—or both. They don’t get much time at all to compose themselves and spring apart before Tae-yeon comes barging into the room.

“Yona!” Tae-yeon flings himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck. The seven year old boy is no longer as tiny as he used to be, so they basically end up dogpiling on top of Hak.

Despite the awkward situation, she finds herself laughing, “why hello to you too, Tae-yeon.”

“I missed you so much!” He still has his arms around her neck in a tight hold, making it difficult for her to sit up. Well, this position isn’t too bad, seeing as she gets to be in close proximity to both of the brothers. Best of both worlds, she supposes.

“Aw, I missed you too!”

She ruffles his blond hair, as Hak laments, “you guys are heavy—especially you, Princess.”

“Hey!” To add insult to injury, he pokes her in her ribs. She turns her head as far as she can to glare at him, though she can’t quite see him. Either way, she _knows_ he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

Tae-yeon releases his death grip on her, his need to hold her finally sated. He plants his head in her lap, lying down underneath the kotatsu. Yona runs her fingers through his hair and his entire face lights up. He’s _so_ cute—and nothing like his brother.

As much as she wants to stay and cuddle Tae-yeon, she needs to distance herself from Hak before she does something she’ll regret. If Tae-yeon finds out, then Mundok will in no time. If Mundok finds out… her dad will know.

If her dad or Mundok know, they won’t allow her to be alone with Hak anymore. That thought scares her—it would traumatize her like a little entitled kid having their favorite toy taken away from them. But Hak isn’t a toy. He’s much more than that. And that… confuses her.

“I should probably get going… I don’t want to be late for dinner,” she feels bad for lying, but she doesn’t know how else leave without making it outright awkward.

“Right,” he clears his throat, giving her a stiff smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, as she gets off the floor. She grabs her bag and heads to leave his room as Tae-yeon waves goodbye from beneath the duvet of the kotatsu. Hak walks her to the front door, casually leaning against the wall as he watches her hastily slip on her sneakers without bothering to tie them.

“You’ll trip like that, you know.” Yona looks up at him to find his classic smirk on his face.

She rolls her eyes, “it’s just a couple blocks. Not like you wouldn’t do the same.”

“Touché,” he rubs his neck as he steps away from the wall, stepping closer to her. His cheek dimples, suppressing a smile, but fails. Oh no, why does he have to be so handsome? She throws on her coat and swings her bag over her shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me invade your Friday plans,” she chuckles, placing her hand on his forearm in an attempt to convey her gratitude through the simplest of touches. She’d hug him goodbye, _god_ even kiss him, but not when there’s a chance that Tae-yeon could see. She never initiated any physical contact with him before this _thing_ , so people would definitely pick up on it—especially something like a hug.

Besides, even if she did kiss or hug him goodbye, she’d probably not be able to let go. It was unbearably hard to let go when she left that night two weeks ago—now, it would probably be even harder.

“Anytime, Princess,” he speaks in a low voice, almost whispering. Something sparkles in his eyes, the spot in his left iris catching her eye. Shit, she needs to leave now or she’s not going to leave anytime soon.

She takes a step back, opening the door and says her goodbye. She has to count to three after he replies just to make sure she actually leaves. To keep her mind occupied, she focuses on not tripping on her shoelaces. It’s only when she’s entered the hallway of her own home her thoughts come rushing back.

“Holy shit, what just happened?” she whispers under her breath. Like, she’s been thinking about it for an entire week and wait—did that _really_ just happen? Kicking off her shoes, she hangs up her coat and tip toes into her room, as if she’s a criminal in her own home who’s just committed a serious crime. She catches herself half way to her room, switching to walk normally. Sheesh, why is she so weird? She dumps her bag on her bedroom floor, flopping face forward into her bed.

You know what? She’s home alone and no one can judge her, so she does what any girl does after successfully seducing her childhood friend: kick her legs and scream into a pillow. Granted, she may not actually have successfully seduced him, but it was good enough— _god,_ was that nice, amazing and something quite out of this world.

She could probably wax poetic about it for ages, but what really seems to have imprinted itself on her retinas is his smile. Of course, she’s previously been quite hung up on it—and even now, when she knows what it tastes like—but why was it so full of love and admiration?

Or maybe it’s just the hormones in her body fucking up her entire perception? Maybe it was just a misinterpretation. It was clearly just a happy smile. Sometimes she forgets that both of them are teenagers, who are by default, horny. She’s especially so, when she’s about to start her period—fuck.

Springing off her bed, she runs into the bathroom. Oh, thank god. Not yet. That would’ve been really embarrassing if she bled onto his jeans. Maybe that’s why she’s been weird all day. PMS.

Well, she usually doesn’t have that much PMS— _thank god—_ but she also tends to forget that she does occasionally get it. Though her symptoms _during_ her period are worse, probably because of how uncomfortable her cramping uterus makes her feel. Her period isn’t that bad, but it’s not fun either.

She heads back to her room and lies down on her bed again, though a little more carefully this time. She pulls her pillow close, holding it for comfort. It’s dangerous—she knows this—but she allows herself to entertain the what-ifs. What if she didn’t misinterpret his smile? What then?

Why would he smile at her like she hung the moon and stars? The only answer she can think of is that he genuinely believes she does, which means… No, that’s not possible. Is it? There’s just no way. They’ve known each other for how long now?

Over a decade.

He’s always teased her and made fun of her, like an annoying big brother. Eww gross—she _definitely_ can’t think of him as such after what they’ve done. But either way, he’s never shown any signs of actually liking her.

If anything, he’s been showing how much he doesn’t like her and how annoying she is, well, until recently. But maybe that’s since he’s gotten a little bit (just a tad) more mature and realizes it’s cruel to be mean to an insecure, teenage girl.

Actually no, it’s not fair to Hak to reason like that. He’s her best friend. More reasons must exist for him to be such a close friend of hers than solely out of a weird sense of duty—or is there, really? She’s never given much thought of her relationship with Hak before two weeks ago. Why would sex all of a sudden change anything?

She groans and rolls over onto her back, her thoughts all muddled and scattered. Maybe he just likes having something casual and then realized he should be nice to her, just to get in her pants? No, that doesn’t make any sense either since that’s not like him. Besides, Yona is the one initiating things between them. Yeah, yeah, reverse psychology and shit, but that doesn’t seem likely.

It just seems a little weird to think that her childhood friend could be harboring a secret crush on her. It feels a little weird, but also something else. A little exciting, almost. Her entire life she’s known Hak as this cool, calm and collected type—almost as if he didn’t, _doesn’t_ have feelings. Which obviously he does, he just hides them so well that she sometimes happens to forget that he’s human too.

But if he likes her, then what? It would make things awkward if she knew. Could she still kiss him if she knew he liked her? Probably not, that would be weird since she doesn’t feel that way about him. But she’s just getting ahead of herself. A smile doesn’t mean he likes her. Being her friend—being _friendly—_ doesn’t mean he likes her.

Ugh, she’s so full of herself; she’s so insecure and thinks that the first guy, who’s kissed her, likes her back—um, likes her, she means. Obviously. Her brain is just filling in the blanks because it craves intimacy. That’s it. She does _not_ like Hak. And he does _not_ like her either.

Ahem, anyway… Though she has to admit that it’s very hypocritical of her to think it’s weird for a childhood friend to have a crush on their friend. After all, that’s exactly the case with her. She’s had a crush on Soo-won since they were little, so then it can’t be _that_ weird. Speaking of Soo-won…

Reaching for her bag, she eels on her stomach, not bothering to get off her bed, even though that would probably be less work. She manages to fish her phone out of her bag and spots Soo-won’s response from a couple hours ago. Whoopsies.

` _> How’s Wednesday sound?  
> We could go to that café we used to visit when we were little!_ `

Ah, that café. Precious memories come to mind, remembering what it was like to be young and carefree. She’s still young, but adulthood and responsibilities are knocking on her door and she doesn’t know for how much longer she can keep them waiting.

Maybe meeting Soo-won will allow her to relax, allow her to remember who she is since her memory is failing her. Is she having an identity crisis or an existential one? Maybe both. She rolls back onto her back with another groan.

That’s why meeting Soo-won will be good. She’ll see Soo-won and she’ll know she still feels the same as always. There. Problem solved. She’ll be the confident, strong-willed girl she’s always been—not this shell of a girl, riddled with insecurities—insecurities that just showed up out of nowhere.

Yes, she’ll meet with Soo-won and that’ll confirm that she _definitely_ doesn’t like Hak. It’s just not possible for her to feel anything but platonic feelings for him…

` _> sounds great!  
see you then! ^^_ `

…Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###### References/Footnotes
> 
>   1. The title, “morning rose” is slang for a hickey.
>   2. [After Bite](https://afterbite.com/) → a _(godsend)_ bug itch reliever, originating from the US (please sponsor me! lol) [▲]
>   3. Autobahn → German (+ Austrian) highways with no speed limits.  
>  (fun fact! my dad actually managed to get a _speeding_ ticket on an autobahn in Germany xd (it was because of a road work sign, but there was no actual road work there lol completely his fault) but it was hilarious and the picture from the speed camera was amazing) [▲]
>   4. [“Some people just need a high five. To the face. With a chair.”](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9b/ba/7c/9bba7cb0dfb10757e9085ac15fb9314b.jpg) → old meme whose origin I cannot find. It’s so dead, it’s all over Pinterest lol [▲]
>   5. Darren Hayes → probably mostly known as the singer, from the 90’s duo [Savage Garden](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Savage_Garden), with an amazing head voice. Yona being a fan of his fits her in this fic since she’s a hopeless romantic and the majority of his music is about love and romance. _[I Knew I Loved You](https://youtu.be/jjnmICxvoVY?t=8) _and _[Truly Madly Deeply](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQnAxOQxQIU) _are some of the band’s biggest hits. [▲]
>   6. ["Speed"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Speed_\(1994_film\)) → a thriller movie, from 1994, about a bus rigged with a bomb that will explode if its speed drops below 50mph (~80km/h), starring Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, as well as many other great actors! I tried not to spoil too much—can highly recommend it! [▲]
>   7. **I do not endorse illegally streaming movies,** this is **solely** for **entertainment purposes** (@[säpo](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swedish_Security_Service) plx, i’m innocent)
> 

> 
> * * *
> 
> Ahh, a moment some of you have been waiting for. I’m pleased to say I’m ending (part) of your suffering lol (sorry that their feelings haven’t caught up yet whoops)
> 
> uh yeah, sorry for inaccuracies in the American high school system. I had originally written precalc as math, but then I realized Americans don’t have math as one subject—and then I also realized they don’t have philosophy as a subject in HS at all but I didn’t want to remove it, so whoops ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> yes romantic movies are the bomb.com and you will have to pry them from my cold, dead hands before I give them up xd (just like fanfiction lol)
> 
> next chapter will include Soo-won and an important plot point (you may be able to guess already)—and more importantly, will include more steamy things lol
> 
> again, I’m really sorry for taking so long, especially considering the fact that many of you are stuck in quarantine. I’ve been busy with school (ahhh only one month left ‘til graduation!) and also lacking motivation—though I’m pleased to say it is back and I’m already working on the next chapter lol
> 
> **please let me know if the footnotes were useful!** They took a lot of time to do and I wonder if it’s worth it to make them like that! I also don't have a beta, so please let me know if there are any mistakes you've noticed!
> 
> stay safe everyone! **< 3**
> 
> * * *
> 
> ##### Note as of September 2020:
> 
> guilt has been gnawing at me for the past four to five months since I last updated this. tbqh, I bit off more than I could chew with this fic, so I’m afraid it’s going on an indefinite hiatus. 
> 
> thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all of the lovely comments—and I’m so sorry for not following through on my vow to finish this. 
> 
> maybe some day when I’m in a better place mentally I will, but I felt that you guys deserved to know <3

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments are very appreciated! <3 follow my tumblr [@miserably-inadequate-fics](https://miserably-inadequate-fics.tumblr.com/)


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